Young Again
by absconder
Summary: Newt is given a second chance by a girl named Annie. Together they must race against the clock to find the Safe Haven. But with Newt still under the effects of the Flare, and Annie's ties to WICKED, will they be able to trust each other enough to make it in time?
1. Operate

**A/N: This story will be a mix of the books & movies. I have only consumed this material a few times, so forgive me if anything is a little different than the canon. Also, I am not a doctor, and anything medical related in this story should not be taken as actual medical advice. I just wanted Newt to have a second chance! Finally, I do not own The Maze Runner nor any characters within that world. The only thing that is mine are my OC's. Thank you. Please leave a review!**

XXXXX

The first thing Newt noticed when he woke up was the smell of eggs.

He opened his eyes, blinking slowly as he took in his surroundings. Nearby was a coffee table, with two unoccupied chairs pulled up to its edge. Hanging on the wall behind the table and chairs was a piece of art. He blinked again. Was it a painting of horses, or were they dogs? Either way, it was horrid, and therefore probably expensive.

Something sounded from nearby, and he started. The sound of moving feet mixed with the familiar clatter of plates and silverware being removed from cupboards and drawers.

He tried to sit up, but stopped at once. A searing pain flashed white-hot through his chest. He looked down and gaped; thick white gauze and tape covered the area where the pain had emanated from. His head throbbed, and he closed his eyes as he tried to remember what had happened, or where he might be. The faint sulfuric smell wafted again from what he assumed was a kitchen. He closed his eyes and breathed through this mouth.

 _You're not going to get sick, you're not going to get sick_ , he repeated to himself like a mantra.

He tried to pull his legs in, but only one obeyed. He looked down and saw his left ankle tied to the foot of the sofa next to him. He jerked his foot, but the complicated knot held fast. He tried to sit up to get a better angle, but the movement sent a fresh wave of pain throughout his body, and he cried out.

The noises from the kitchen stopped and someone came into the room. He looked up, and saw a girl about his age drying her hands on a towel.

"Oh good, you're awake." She said.

"Who -" He coughed; his inflamed throat made his voice sound strange to his ears. "- Who the bloody hell are you?"

"Just a minute." She disappeared and came back with a plate. She set it down before him and offered him a fork, which he took in confusion.

"I'll explain everything soon," she said. "But first, eat your eggs before they get cold."

XXXXX

The riots had started in a blaze of gold and smoke. She had seen the wall, which they had claimed was impenetrable, crumble like a sandcastle at high tide. With part of the barrier gone, the city began letting in the very thing it had tried so hard to keep out. It didn't take long for the Cranks to swarm in, filling the streets and alleyways with their rebellion.

She watched her city burn from a window high up in a sterile tower. She was alone on her floor; most people had already vacated the building. She had even seen one of her coworkers, Teresa, get escorted out by two guards.

She turned from the window with a heavy sigh, took off her lab coat, and went to her desk. Notebooks, various pills and serums, a photograph of her and her mother – everything went into her bag.

She opened a small drawer and pulled a watch out. That item was a gift from her father, given to her shortly before he had left. She turned it over and ran her finger over the engraving – 'To Antoinette, all my love – WICKED is good'. Now, save for an artificial potted plant on the corner of her desk, it was like she had never been there at all.

She looked at the front of the watch. It was time to go. Her eyes swept over the office for what she hoped would not be the last time.

 _WICKED will take care of this_ , she thought. _I will be back._

She went into the hallway and headed toward the emergency staircase, making her way to the first floor.

Outside the building, her first thought was that it smelled like the Fourth of July. She could taste the gunpowder in the air and covered her mouth with her scarf to keep from coughing. As she looked around, she noticed her street was empty, but she could hear people screaming and cheering off in the distance. How far away were they, ten blocks, twenty?

She pulled her coat tighter. Her apartment wasn't far away; if she walked fast, and luck was on her side, she might get there before she ran into anyone. She hugged the walls as she put distance between herself and the gate-crashers. She was glad for the gun she had stored in the pocket of her bag.

She jumped as another blast came, nearer this time. She spun around and watched, dumbstruck, as the building she had spent the last few years in collapsed.

 _Those Cranks have no idea what they're doing, how hard we have worked to help them_. She wiped away angry tears, and an image of Teresa flashed in her mind – she hoped she had made it out of the building in time.

With a heaviness in her chest she moved on and came across an open stretch of concrete. It was the last block before her apartment building, and at this time of night it was usually swarming with exhausted looking people in business suits, going out for a stiff drink before going home to their families. But tonight the area was completely empty. The stark contrast made her shiver, and she hunched her shoulders as she quickened her pace.

Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning the shadows as she walked. All her muscles were tensed as she anticipated someone jumping out at her from the darkness at any moment, and she had to remind herself to breathe. Something crashed to her left and she started violently, then cursed to herself as she saw an orange cat skitter out of the alley. She turned back around, laughing shakily, and then froze.

Something was in the middle of her path.

Her breath caught in her throat as a sudden coldness expanded in her stomach. She absentmindedly felt for her bag, making sure it was still on her shoulder.

She bit her lip as she looked back and forth. Most likely it was nothing. The city council was always installing something new around town. Last week it had been a Japanese-style fountain. Perhaps this was just a new piece of street art, some avant-garde junk that was supposed to mean something.

But the closer she got, the more her heart sank. For a piece of art, it looked awfully... body shaped.

She stopped.

It _was_ a body.

He looked about her age, but that is where the similarities ended. Black veins ran up his neck, creeping onto his face like twisted vines. Dark liquid dripped out the corner of his mouth, creating a small puddle next to his head.

A Crank.

Most horrifying of all, was the knife embedded in his chest.

A chill ran through her. She looked at the poor victim and felt a familiar pang of guilt come back to haunt her. It reminded her she was one of the lucky ones, being born immune while so many others suffered a violent end.

 _That could be you_ , her mind taunted.

But instead of walking around him, she crept closer. Because he wasn't a complete stranger.

Her pulse increased as she noticed he wore the familiar red and grey uniform of a WICKED security officer. She stepped closer again, caught between fear and curiosity. Perhaps under all that Kevlar he had some sort of identification; a driver's license or work badge. She might be able to get in touch with his parents, or a sibling. Someone who could claim him, and grieve the loss rather than wait around with deferred hope.

She started by rummaging through his bag, then checked the compartments in his vest one-by-one. When both of those turned up nothing, she tugged at his neckline and felt for the cool metal of dog tags.

Nothing again. It was as if he were a ghost. She shivered.

"Who are you?" She asked. Something about him sparked a vague memory in her mind, but she couldn't place it.

" _Tommy_ ," he hissed back.

She stumbled backward, hand over her mouth. She hadn't actually expected a response. She wasn't even sure it was him who had spoken or if she'd just imagined it. Gingerly, she nudged his arm with her foot and waited.

He didn't move or speak again.

She looked around. Her apartment building was so close; if she left now, she could make it before anyone else came.

 _Before anyone sees me leave him to die_ , she thought.

"No," she said aloud to herself as she shook her head. She had sworn an oath when she started working for WICKED that she would help people who needed it. And this boy definitely needed it.

No exceptions. No compromises.

She knelt down beside him again and took his wrist. His skin still felt warm under her fingertips; he must not have been lying there for long. She found what she was looking for: a pulse, faint and unsteady.

She let his arm drop and looked at the knife in his chest.

 _If it had hit a vital organ, he would be dead already_ , she reasoned.

She undid the clips on his vest, set it aside, and then tugged at the hem of his shirt. She pulled up the fabric to the knife, studying the wound. She was surprised yet relieved to see it was a clean cut, one swift entry - not a repeated attack.

 _Who would do this?_ She wondered as she pulled his shirt back down.

She sat back and looked at him for a moment, at his blonde hair and down-turned mouth. She felt a prickle in her mind again; that familiar creeping feeling that they had met before.

It wouldn't let her go, and she knew then what she had to do.

"Okay," she said as she steeled herself and put one hand on the hilt of the knife. "Okay."

She looked at his void face. At least he would never know if this didn't work.

"I'm sorry." She said.

With a steady upward motion she pulled the knife out.

"Jesus!" She exclaimed as the gash began to bleed freely, no longer obstructed by the blade. She dropped it by her feet and quickly unwound her scarf, setting it over the wound and using her body weight to apply pressure.

"What am I doing?" She asked into the night.

With one shaking hand she reached into her bag and felt around. Her fingers brushed against something cool and metal, and she pulled it out.

A serum injector, filled with a vial of pale blue liquid.

It was a leftover from one of the many tests WICKED had deemed a failure. At this point in the game, if a medicine couldn't cure the Flare completely, it was discarded without a second thought.

But that didn't mean they were worthless.

In the right market, the vial in her hands would have fetched her a pretty penny. Desperation knew no price, and people were willing to pay. Unfortunately, this was the last one in her arsenal. The rest, which she had kept in a box under her bed, had all been sold. And with the headquarters gone, she doubted she would come across another any time soon.

"Hope you're worth it," she muttered as she held the injector between her teeth and rolled up the boy's sleeve.

It hissed as soon as she pulled the trigger, and she watched as the precious blue liquid left the cartridge and disappeared into his darkened veins.

Empty now, she tossed it aside and leaned back on her heels. She bit her lip as she watched and waited. One minute. Two. Nothing happened.

"Come on," she muttered.

Her muscles tensed as she heard calls coming from closer now, and she knew she didn't have much time.

"Wake up!" She urged, giving his arm a light slap.

As if he had heard her, a strong tremor surged through his body.

"Yes, come on!"

The rush that went through her in that moment quickly turned to panic however as instead of waking up, the boy began to shake violently.

It started with his chest, and then his arms. His left leg thrashed, and then his right. A moment later it had overtaken his entire body. He convulsed upon the hard ground, his body flailing uncontrollably.

Antoinette pressed down upon him again, trying to keep him still. She had seen enough seizure victims to know what damage he could do to himself, and she wished for a moment she had something to place between his teeth.

Had the serum not worked? Was he still succumbed to the Flare? If that was the case, he would be strong, too strong for her to manage. She glanced at her bag - would the gun or a sedative be more useful?

His chest rose, lifting her with it, and for a moment she wondered whether she should cut and run, when suddenly he let out a long, ragged breath and went still.

"It's all right," she said, more to herself than him as exhaustion overtook her and she wiped a sweaty hair away from her forehead.

She looked at his arm. The veins nearest the injection site were fading from black to dark grey. An encouraging sign.

Tentatively, she grabbed the boy's wrist and felt for his pulse again. It was stabilizing.

"We've done it," she said, leaning back on the palms of her hands. A sense of pride soared through her, and she watched him with some inner satisfaction as his breath began to come out even and strong.

But as her adrenaline crashed, warnings began to flood her mind.

How stupid was she to even attempt to revive this boy? He could have killed her, and she didn't even know his name. Who was he to her, anyway? Just a security guard she'd passed a hundred times in the hall before? That was probably why he looked familiar to her.

But still, she felt she couldn't leave him out here alone, not now. Not after that.

"I'm going to get you out of here, John Doe." She said.

 _But how_? Her mind retorted.

She looked around. Not far away, crumpled on the ground was a red and white banner promoting a 5K Fun Run. She could almost laugh at how ridiculous it was now as her world was falling down around her. She grabbed it and brought it back over to the boy.

"Here we go," she said.

She grabbed under his arms and pulled him onto the banner. With care, she lifted her ruined scarf and checked his wound again. It looked raw and ugly, but the bleeding had at least slowed.

She shouldered her bag and picked up the banner ties. With great effort she dragged it behind her, toward her apartment building.

She had to stop several times to catch her breath, even over the short distance. She felt no relief until she scanned her ID, and the front door unlocked with a familiar _click_. The sounds of the crowd had grown louder outside, and with one final exertion she pulled the boy through the entrance, just as she caught a glimpse of someone turning a corner down the street.

The lobby was empty. She leaned on a leather chair to catch her breath as instrumental music played over the speakers. It almost felt like a normal night, besides the body lying by her feet.

She headed toward the elevators, pressed the up button, and waited. There was a _ding_ , and she dragged the half-Crank boy into the open metal box. She had to choke down panic as the doors closed; if he woke up and was still a true Crank, she would not be able to escape. She tapped her fingers on the metal railing as they climbed, watching the boy the entire time.

Her apartment - or penthouse, as it was - was on the top floor of the building. As she made her way past the rows of doors, she wondered if any of her nosy neighbors were awake and watching her. What a sight she would be for Mrs. Delaney, who had always thought she was odd for working instead of living off her parent's wealth.

At her own door she scanned her ID again, entered, and quickly closed it behind her. She pulled the boy over near her sofa and took a step back.

What was she going to do with him? What if he awoke again as a Crank, or didn't wake up at all and she had a dead body in her living room? What if he went back to normal but was just a huge jerk and tried to hurt her? Someone had stabbed him. Was it because he had the Flare, or something even worse?

"Mom?" She called out. She waited, but no one responded.

She realized she actually felt more relieved her mom _wasn't_ there. She cared about helping people infected with the Flare, but even she would find this endeavor ridiculous and extremely reckless.

She went into her bathroom and grabbed a first aid kit from beneath the sink. She took out a sterilizing solution, suture kit, gauze, and medical tape, then went back and sat down next to the boy. The work should have been second nature to her after years in a lab, but her hands shook with exhaustion.

She took several minutes to stitch him up - not that he could complain. Once she finished she used the extra gauze to secure his ankle to the foot of her sofa. She would know when, or if, he awoke.

"See you in the morning," she said. "I hope."

She got up, went to her bedroom, and locked the door behind her. Too tired to change, she fell onto her bed, closed her eyes, and groaned.

"What am I doing?" She asked, voice muffled by her pillow.

* * *

A cry sounded from the living room. She set down the hot pad and rushed into the room.

It had been two nights since she had brought the boy to her apartment. Her mom had not shown up, and he was still unconscious. She had begun to regret her decision as she watched Cranks continue to overrun her city below. She had closed her curtains the morning after the attacks, unable to stomach it any longer.

Now, the boy was trying to sit up against her sofa, groaning in frustration as he jerked his tied foot.

"Oh good, you're awake." She said.

"Who -" he said, and then coughed "- Who the bloody hell are you?"

His voice was deeper than she had expected, and he spoke with an accent.

"Just a minute," she said. She went into the kitchen and came back with a plate. She set it down before him and handed him a fork. "We'll get to that soon," she said. "But first, eat your eggs before they get cold."

She barely had time to dodge the fork as it flew back in her general direction, hitting the wall behind her and falling to the floor with a metallic _clink_.

"Hey!" She protested. _Off to a good start_. She picked the fork up and kept it this time.

"Where's Thomas?" He asked. "Tommy!" He called out.

She recognized that name from the night she found him; she had thought perhaps it was his name. She shushed him. "We're the only ones here."

"Where is 'here'? Who are you?" He looked around again. "Is this a test?"

"What?" She shook her head at him. He was obviously delirious. "Hang on." She grabbed her work badge off the coffee table and held it up for him. "My name's Antoinette, see?"

"Well, that explains everything." His tone was sarcastic, but as he squinted at the badge, his face paled. He pointed a thin finger at the small print above her smiling face. "Does that say WICKED?" He asked.

"That's where I work," she said. An image of a building, collapsing into a pile of cement, glass, and rebar came to her mind. "Well, worked," she amended.

His eyes narrowed.

"Let me go," he said coolly. It was not a request. She involuntarily backed away.

"No, you haven't had time to recover and -"

"I said let me go!" He kicked the sofa. The veins under his skin pulsated as his chest heaved from the exertion.

"Stop that!"

"What is it this time?" He asked, ignoring her. "Save the Crank, tie him up, see how he reacts? What then, you gonna send me back to the Glade, throw me out in the bloomin' Scorch?" He continued to fight against the sofa, and Antoinette backed up against the wall, hand over her mouth.

"You gonna tell me Tommy and the others are dead?" He continued. "See if I burn the world down?" His frantic voice was ringing off the walls now. "I bet you poisoned these shuck eggs too, waiting to see how long it takes me to kick the bucket so you can bring me back again and start the whole bloody trial over again!

The white gauze on his chest had become speckled with red. Antoinette stepped forward off the wall, hands out in a pacifying manner.

"Stop, you're hurting yourself!" She cried out. "Stop! She rushed forward and grabbed his shoulder. "Newt, stop!" Her hand flew to her mouth again.

He looked at her. "What did you just say?"

"Newt, that's your name right?" She asked cautiously. "From the... the Glade? Group A?"

His eyes teared up as he shook his head slowly. "Stop."

"And Tommy, you mean -"

"I said stop!" He slapped her hand away, and she sat back, out of his reach.

"Listen to me," she began, voice shaking. "I swear I didn't know who you were, okay? Two nights ago you were lying in the street. I thought you were dead. I brought you here, fixed you up..." She pointed at the gauze. "That bandage, it's covering stitches I put in because you had a freaking knife sticking out of your chest."

He looked down and fingered the tape stuck around the edges of the bandage. _A knife wound_? His features darkened as he tried to think of the last thing he could remember. He had been sitting in an alleyway with Thomas. Had he yelled at him? He remembered he hurt Tommy with something he had said. But Tommy wouldn't have _stabbed_ him.

"I know what you've been through," she continued. "It's true, I work for WICKED; I knew who you were as soon as you mentioned the Glade. But I don't want to hurt you, and this isn't a test."

She kept her eyes on his, trying to convince him.

"I want to help you," she said slowly. "If you can calm down, and trust me a little, I'll untie you and we can talk this out."

He must have believed her, or at least realized he had no other choice, because he relaxed his foot and leaned back against the sofa.

She went to get scissors and when she came back she approached him carefully, clutching the instrument in her hands. He groaned at her hesitation.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he muttered. "Just get on with it, yeah?"

She closed the gap between them and bent down, lighting touching his ankle as she cut through the gauze. As promised, he made no movement toward her, but she stepped back quickly anyway. He gingerly turned his foot and bent his knee, sighing with relief as he did so.

"Better?" She asked cautiously.

He nodded and then picked up the plate of food near him. He realized he was starving, and would take the odds on whether it was safe to eat. She handed him the fork again, and this time he kept it, shoveling food into his mouth as he looked at the girl.

He was much calmer when he spoke again. "So, _Annie_ ," he said, mouth full. "Talk. Why am I not a proper Crank anymore?"

She must have felt more comfortable now because she sat down, cross-legged, and went into the full story of how she had found him. She explained what she had done for him, told him about what was going on in the city now. He listened attentively to every detail, clearing his plate as she spoke.

"So, now we're here, eating breakfast on my floor," she finished. "Any questions?"

"Yeah, a lot," he said, "But only one I care about for now. How long will this serum work for?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted as she tucked her hair behind her ears. "In some of the trials it put the Flare into remission for a week or two, in others up to a month. It lasts longer if you keep the stress down." She gave him a pointed look.

"All right," he set the plate down and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "That should give me enough time."

"Time for what?" She asked.

"To find my friends."

"What?" She asked incredulously. "You can't just go."

He shrugged. "Why not? I can't stay here."

"But your wound," she protested. "It hasn't had enough time to heal. The serum helped but you still need to rest."

"Shuck it, I've had worse."

She wondered what could be worse than being stabbed in the chest, but she did not want to ask. "It could open again, what if it needs re-stitched?" She reasoned.

He threw his hands up in frustration. "Then either show me how to do it, or come with me if you're so bloody concerned! Don't you realize all my friends think I'm dead? I have to go."

She grew quiet. "You mean Thomas, and the others?"

He looked down and picked at the rug fibers. "Whoever's left."

"Well, I guess I can't stop you," she said resignedly. "I'm not, like, holding you hostage or anything. I wish you'd wait until you're all better, but..."

She fidgeted with her hands. She didn't want to admit it, but the truth was she was afraid of being alone. She had always been an independent person, but even the strange, half-Crank boy seemed better than what was going on outside her apartment.

"If you have to go..." her voice trailed off.

"I do." He said firmly. He paused as his eyes flicked back to her. "And you? What will you do?"

She sighed. "My life's here. Whatever's left of it, anyway. WICKED will get it under control, eventually. We'll rebuild." But even as she said it she wasn't sure she believed it.

"That's a nice dream," he said flatly. "But I don't think there will be much left of your precious city in a few days. At least where I'm heading there're more immunes than Cranks."

"When are you planning on leaving?"

"In the morning. Early."

She frowned. "So soon? That doesn't leave you much time to get ready."

"Doesn't leave you much time to decide." He said.

* * *

In the morning she laid in bed while she listened to Newt stirring in her living room. She could tell he was moving slowly, and he groaned several times as he got ready. After a few minutes there was a soft knock on her door. She could see his shadow shifting on the other side under the crack, waiting.

"Come in," she said.

He entered and limped to the foot of her bed. He looked clean; he must have used her shower while she was sleeping.

"I'm leaving," he said. He stood there awkwardly for a moment then added, "So, thanks."

She sat up in bed. "Did you get my bag?" She asked. She had left a small bag on the counter for him, filled with food, bottled water, and a first aid kit.

"I did," he said. He lifted it up to show her. He winced at the movement and set the bag back down.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "If that bag is too heavy for you, you're not going to make it very far."

"Slim it. I'll be out of your hair in a few minutes and you won't have to worry about me," he said. He began to pull his jacket on, and let out a sharp breath.

She pushed her covers back. "Damn it, let me help you." She went over to and grabbed the other sleeve, holding it out for him. "I can't believe you're doing this," she said as she tugged on the collar so it stood up straight.

He looked down at her and she shrank back slightly. She hadn't realized he was so tall.

"What other bloody choice do I have?" He asked.

He hoisted her bag over his shoulder and took a step back. He stood as straight as he could, as if to show her that her concerns were unfounded. When he saw she still looked worried, he shrugged half-heartedly and left her room, partially closing the door behind him.

Alone now, Antoinette stared at the back of her wooden door, hands balled together in her lap. A battle of thoughts whirled like a storm in her mind, confusing her.

She could go with the Glader, but for all she knew he still hated her for being tied in with WICKED and would leave her for dead at the first opportunity. Besides, he still had the Flare. He was okay now, but what about in a week, two weeks? The serum would wear of, eventually. It always did. He might not be able to infect her, but he could still hurt her.

Or, she could stay in her apartment. She looked around her room. It didn't seem like a bad place to ride out the tide of Cranks, but it could never be a permanent solution. She'd eventually run out of food, clean water. Plus, she didn't know where her mom was; would she come looking for her? Had she already left the city?

She didn't want to wait around too long, wasting her days away like a princess in a silver tower, waiting for her WICKED prince to come and rescue her.

But would they?

She had been told so many time that WICKED was good, but relying on them for her deliverance was a very different thing. Newt was about to leave, and then she would be alone.

Totally, utterly alone.

 _Doesn't leave you much time to decide_ , his voice rang in her mind.

"Don't go."

Antoinette stood behind Newt, who was putting some of her kitchen towels into his bag. She hadn't even realized she had left her bedroom.

He turned around and ran his hand through his wavy blonde hair, exasperated. "Not this again, I told you – "

"No," she interrupted. "Don't go, at least not yet. Please, wait for me. I'm coming with you."


	2. When It Gets Dark Out

Newt wandered around the penthouse while Annie collected items and took them back to her bedroom. There wasn't much for him to look at, even with the many rooms to explore. The entire space was an ode to neutrals - grey walls, white marble countertops, metal appliances, clear crystal chandeliers. It was all quite posh, but it made him feel hollow, and he wanted to roll his eyes at how naïve it seemed. How could people continue to live in such opulence while the world – the real world – was falling apart just outside their doors?

He looked out over the city from the floor-length windows in the living room as the sun was just coming up. From way up here, everything the light touched looked small and insignificant. Living this way could make any person feel powerful. It made sense to him then how Annie worked for WICKED, if this was her view on the world.

"I'm ready!"

Newt turned from the window and his eyes followed Annie as she came into the living room, puffing as she pulled a suitcase behind her. Her other hand clutched the handles of an oversized, monogrammed duffel bag.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked her over. "You're having me on, yeah?"

"What?" She set the bag down on top of the suitcase and looked at him blankly. "What's wrong?"

He gestured to her luggage. "You can't bring all that with us."

"Why? I can carry it."

He came away from the window and crossed over to her. "Because we're not going on a bloody holiday at the sea, Annie."

"I know, but -,"

"What do you even _have_ in there?"

Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the duffel bag and set it on the ground, unzipping the top. He let out a snort as his eyes scanned over the contents.

"No," he said as he pulled out a pair of shearling-lined slippers. "Definitely not," he added as he held up an electric toothbrush. "Oh, bloody hell." He tossed a hairdryer on the ground next to the luggage.

"Do you know what _essentials_ means?" He asked, making air quotes. "Food, water, a torch, a change of clothes. What good are these –," he pulled out a pair of large, dangly earrings. "Going to do you out there?"

"They're vintage!" She protested.

"They're rubbish." He tossed them on the floor, then sat back on his heels and looked up at her.

"Do you have a backpack?" He asked. "You must, yeah? I mean, you have everything else."

"Can't I just use the suitcase?" She asked, glancing down at him. She put her foot out and spun one of the wheels with her toes. "It rolls."

She couldn't quite identify the look he gave her just then. All she knew was that suddenly she was in the foyer closet, pulling items off a high shelf.

"There should be one in here," she called out. "Just have to move -,"

She let out a startled shriek and the sound of boxes falling reached the living room.

"I'm okay!" She announced a moment later.

Newt took a deep breath and rubbed his face. "Good that," he replied halfheartedly.

This was a nightmare.

He knew he should have left as soon as he had woken up. He'd be halfway across the city by now, not standing in an overpriced living room wincing as another box fell. Yes, he could be on his way to Tommy, and Minho, and the others...

If only she hadn't saved his damned life.

"Alright?" He called out after it had been silent for a few moments.

"Fine!" Came her muffled reply.

He ran his hand through his hair and let out a resigned sigh. He knew deep down it wasn't her fault she grew up in privilege. If your lot in life could be chosen he sure as hell wouldn't have ended up as some megalomaniac corporation's guinea pig. But it was a burden he would now have to share.

A thought came into his head that it would probably be in their best interest if he treated her like a Greenie entering the Glade for the first time. Perhaps viewing her in the same way he had viewed Thomas and the others would help him have some much needed patience. As he waited, he wondered what job she would have had. Yesterday he would have said Med-jack, but today he was thinking Slopper.

She let out a triumphant sound and reappeared with a black backpack, tags still dangling from the straps.

Newt stretched out his arm toward her. "Give it here."

She handed it to him and he began to transfer select items from her other bags into the smaller one.

"There," he said a few minutes later, as he closed the flap and zipped it back up. "The essentials. Now you're ready."

He stood up and held the bag out. She took it with hesitation as she looked down at the pile of items he had left on the floor.

"You can always change your mind," he said, acknowledging her look of disappointment. _Might be better for both of us_ , he thought.

She paused, looking around her apartment with glossy eyes. For a moment he thought she really was going to change her mind, when she suddenly slung the bag over her shoulder.

"No," she said with more conviction than she felt. "It's like you said. There won't be much left of the city in a few days, and, well... this isn't my home anymore."

"Good that." He gave a curt nod then picked up his own bag. "Right choice, I reckon."

He almost meant it.

* * *

On their way out Annie left a brief note for her mom on the foyer table. She assumed she had already left the city, but didn't want her to be worried in case she came back. Her feelings weren't hurt that her mom hadn't come home to look for her. Their relationship had always been more akin to roommates living parallel lives than a loving mother-daughter bond. Besides, there were more important things unfolding in their world.

She looked back over her apartment. She got déjà vu as she recalled leaving the WICKED building in a similar fashion only a few nights ago. She wondered if this building would burn to the ground as soon as she stepped outside too.

"Come on," Newt called. He was already halfway down the hallway and waved her over with impatience.

She shut the door and jogged to catch up with him. At the end of the hall they found that, luckily, the elevators were still working. She pressed the down button and waited for the metal box to appear. As the door opened, she noticed Newt hesitate and then shuffle in quickly and move to the back corner. He remained there, silent and rigid, until they reached the first floor, relaxing only when the doors opened again. He pushed past Annie and stepped out first.

The lobby was no longer empty. People had set up camp there, lounging on the floor or in the comfortable leather chairs. A television was on in the corner, broadcasting static. A woman sat in front, holding a crying baby to her breast. She looked like she hadn't washed in days. No one said anything to them as they crossed the space to the front door which was now just an empty metal frame. Annie wondered if the squatters would travel upstairs and find a way to get into her apartment. She did not recognize any of them, and shuddered as she thought about a stranger sleeping in her bed, or going through her things. She should have made Newt let her take more with them.

Outside the building, the chaos had already died down. The rebels had sought shelter around the city, and only some milled about in the streets as the early sun cast its golden glow upon the buildings. The city itself was in shambles. Annie forced herself to keep her eyes down and not gawk. Familiar shops and cafes were almost unrecognizable, with their facades torn down and their insides looted. Trash and debris covered the streets.

She glanced at Newt. He was staring blankly ahead as he walked at her side, showing no signs of concern at the scene before him. His indifference annoyed her, and she wondered what he could have been through to make this seem normal to him. She hoped she had made the right choice in going with him, this strange boy she hardly knew.

They did not speak beyond her telling him where to turn or which alley to go down. It grated on her sanguine personality; she wanted to talk about music, sports, the weather, whatever. Anything that would get her mind off what she was leaving behind, or what she was getting herself into.

Newt himself had to stop regularly to rest. Whatever she had given him the other night had helped, but just enough. The pain would go from a dull ache in his chest to a pulsing beast of a thing, threatening to take his breath away. He'd clench his jaw, close his eyes, and take deep, slow breaths through his nose as Annie hovered nearby. She was polite enough not to remind him she had warned him he wasn't ready to go. Instead, she'd just offer him water, but he would wave her off and tell her he was fine.

She was secretly glad for the reprieves even though she felt awful for the pain he was in. She wasn't used to walking this far. Once she had moved to the city, she took the subway or a cab anywhere she wanted to go. She could feel blisters forming on her feet, and she wiggled her toes to keep them from going numb. The boots she wore had been a gift from her father, a bribe to get her to go hiking with him in the mountains. She had never taken him up on it; once she had become a teenager, it stopped being cool to hang out with her parents. She regretted that now.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she ran into something. It was Newt.

He had stopped in the middle of a brick-lined alley, and even from behind she could tell he was not well. His hair stuck to the back of his sweat-soaked neck and he put out a shaky hand, trying to steady himself against the wall. His other hand clutched his chest, his breathing ragged.

She rounded on him. "Newt?"

He looked up at her weakly. The color had drained from his face, and he seemed unable to focus his eyes anywhere.

"I'm fine," he said.

"Bullshit." She put her hand on his shoulder and leveled her eyes on his. "There's a cafe across the street," she said. "We're going to go over there and you're going to sit down."

He said nothing, just nodded. She squeezed his shoulder and readjusted her backpack before turning around and going back out the alley. She turned around to make sure he was following. His gait was unsteady, but there he was, faltering behind her.

The cafe was a coffee shop she frequented during the week when she was working. Usually it was full of young students doing homework or people in suits reading newspapers. Today, the dining room was empty. Part of the front wall was missing, and they easily slipped inside, under a smiling mermaid logo that looked down at them impassively.

She directed Newt toward a table in the back, and he slumped down into a wooden chair. Annie folded her arms and leaned on the back of the chair across from him, eyeing him with concern.

"You're not fine Newt," she reprimanded. "So stop saying you are."

"I know," he said. He looked up at her miserably. "Can you ... can you look in the bag?"

They had decided before they left the apartment that Annie would be in charge of first aid. She had emptied her medicine cabinet and brought everything with them, unsure what they might need along the way.

She set her backpack on the chair and unzipped a side pocket, pulling out a bottle of generic pain medicine.

Newt eyed it with disappointment. "Got anything stronger?" He asked.

She rummaged for a moment then pulled out another bottle full of small white pills.

"Nexophan," she said as she popped the top off. "Only take one." She handed him the bottle.

He took it gratefully and obediently swallowed one tiny pill. Knowing relief would soon be on its way, he sunk further into the chair and gave her a half-hearted smile.

"Thanks," he said.

She picked the bottle up and put it back in her bag, then sat down. "We can take longer breaks if you need," she said. "I can't help you if you don't speak up."

"I know," he said again. He paused. "It's your fault you know," he said, as life came back into his face. "That bloody flat of yours made me soft."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not that nice."

"It had heated floors in the bathroom," he quipped.

She stood up and slung her backpack over her shoulder. "All right," she said, crossing her arms and looking down at him with disdain. "If you feel good enough to make fun of me, we can go."

She fought a smile as she turned around and then froze.

"Newt," she whispered.

He looked up and then stood up. A man was leaning on the counter in the cafe's front. His chin rested in his hands as he watched them.

They had not heard him come in; he must have been hiding out in back employee area before they got there. His greasy blonde hair was slicked back into a tight ponytail, making his face appear startlingly angular. A green t-shirt hung off his atrophied body, showing off black veins that spread up and down the length of his arms. He smiled at them.

"Let's go," Newt said. He placed his fingertips on the small of her back and directed her toward the front of the store. Once they came near the counter, the man straightened.

"Hey," he said, "How y'all doin'?"

Newt ignored him and continued to push Annie toward the entrance.

"Don't be rude now," the man said. "I asked y'all how y'all were doin'."

Newt stopped reluctantly. "Brilliant," he answered.

"Really? Don't look like it," he said. "In fact, unless my Crank eyes deceive me I saw the little lady give you a Nexie a minute ago. Now, you don't just take that stuff willy-nilly."

"He has a migraine," Annie interjected.

"Is that right?" The man asked. His eyes twinkled as he looked at the two of them. "Why y'all lyin' when I'm just tryin' to be friendly? Where I'm from we treat strangers with hospitality." He shook his head sadly. "I'm disappointed in y'all's manners."

"What do you want?" Newt asked.

"You slow boy?" The man slammed his hand on the counter, making them both jump. "Nexophan – now that there stuff is only available from a doctor. Now, y'all don't look like doctors. So where'd you get it?"

"You kidding mate?" Newt asked. "Entire city is klunked up. Just go outside, you can find whatever you want."

"Well, as you can see it's a little slow goin' for me." He held out his arms to show them the black lines. "So, goin' back to that 'hospitality' – I think it'd be mighty nice if y'all would be willin' to share with me."

"Why should we?" Annie asked.

His eyes darkened, and he leaned forward over the counter. "You wanna test me girl?" He asked. "I've been livin' outside this city for months, waitin' for my chance to get in. Suddenly, boom! -" he clapped his hands together "- There goes the wall. Now, my days may be endin' soon but that don't mean I wanna go out like some wild animal."

Annie realized then it was time to change tactics. Any form of distraction or intimidation was clearly not going to work; they were just wasting time. If he wanted to live like a human, she would treat him like one.

"Who are you?" She asked. She noticed he had a tag belonging to the coffee shop pinned haphazardly to his shirt, which read Samantha.

"Name's Cooper. Friends call me Coop."

"Well Cooper, I'm Annie. Now you know, Nexophan is for pain management. My friend here -" she pointed at Newt "- is in a lot of pain, so we need to save it for him. But I think I have something you might like."

She pulled her backpack off and opened the side pocket. Cooper peered over the counter as she handled various bottles. She found the one she was looking for and held it out. His eyes glowed as he licked his lips and reached a trembling hand across the counter.

"Give it," he whispered.

She hovered the bottle above his open hand. "It's yours. Just don't drink it all at once Cooper. It's stronger than what you're used to." She set it down on his palm.

He took the top off the bottle, tipped it back, and drank. He gave a shaky laugh as he wiped his mouth and set the empty bottle down on the counter.

A slow smile spread over his face. "Thank you kindly Miss," he said.

"Let's go," Newt muttered from behind Annie. He gave her a light push, and they walked out of the coffee shop, leaving Cooper behind.

Out on the street, Annie laughed shakily as they put distance between themselves and the shop.

"That was … wow ... uh ..." She couldn't find the words, and she looked at Newt for help.

"That was bloody stupid," Newt said.

"What? Why?" She slowed down and grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop.

He looked at her like she was an idiot for even needing an explanation. "Because you can't just bribe everyone we meet with free drugs," he said.

"I didn't," she protested. "He was suffering Newt."

He knocked her hand away and stared down at her, eyes flickering with contempt.

"We're all suffering," he said. "Get it through your thick head. If you think you can save the world, stop. It's a waste of time to hope."

Annie held back a few paces as he turned and continued on. Newt was wrong. Hope was all any of them had left. Hope had brought him back to this world, what was keeping him alive now as he sought his friends.

She wondered if he regretted her choice to bring him back. Perhaps seeing Cooper had reminded him of what he truly was underneath. But as he walked on, alive and steady, she did not regret what she had done. Everything had to be for a greater purpose now. Otherwise, what was the point?

* * *

It was later in the day than they had planned. The sun was overhead, and they had cut through a man-made park to sit together under the shade of a maple tree. The area was deserted. No one cared to sit in parks and look at the flowers while there was an entire city to loot.

"We need to figure out what the hell we're going to do once we get out of here," Newt said as he leaned against the rough trunk of the tree.

Annie looked at him with surprise. "I thought you had a plan."

"It was never _my_ plan," he said. "Vince showed us where we were going, had a boat all lined up and everything. But that's kind of out of the question now, yeah?"

"Do you even know where it is?" Annie asked. "Where he wanted to go?"

"I could find it if I had a map ..." He leaned forward as he looked out over the meticulously manicured landscape. "We'll need a car too, if we can manage, to get us to the coast. Maybe we can nick one."

She blinked at him. "You want to steal a car?"

"More like borrow," he said.

"And when are you planning on bringing it back?" She asked.

He raised his eyebrows and smirked as he bit into his apple. The tart juice flooded his mouth as he leaned back again and looked up through the crown of the tree, chewing.

He had been in the Glade so long he had grown tired of trees, and grass, and flowers. Every day he had to work the land by the sweat of his brow, watching as other Gladers took over the mantle of Runner. New plants and vegetables popping up through the tilled soil only reminded him that time continued on, reminded him of how long he had been there. He had grown to resent the color green.

"I was a Track-hoe you know," he said suddenly.

"A what?"

"A Track-hoe, a, uh, a gardener." He said. "In the Glade. We all had jobs. That was mine."

She leaned back on her elbows. "Did you like it?" She asked.

"Better than being a Slicer or a Bagger," he said.

"I don't know what that means."

"Well, Slicers worked with animals."

"Aw," she interjected. "That's cute."

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "No, like livestock."

"Oh," she said. Her face fell. "Yeah, that makes more sense."

"Yeah. Baggers took care of anyone who … died in the Glade."

"Oh," she said. She picked at the blades of grass. "Did that … happen a lot?"

He looked at her. "You should know."

"I don't," she said. "I knew about the tests and trials but … I never could get myself to watch the monitors." She brushed her hand on her shirt and tiny pieces of grass fell back to the ground. "I wanted to help people. I didn't need to know the details of the means."

"Did they tell you the tests would help?" He asked.

"They did, but I never really got it. Like, was it really helping, or did they just like the feeling of playing God on a bunch of scared kids?" Newt nodded, and she went on.

"Anyway, I helped with the general medical stuff. If someone got hurt, the Creators would come to my team and ask for help. We'd package up supplies, you know, whatever we thought was needed, and they'd send them in." She waved a hand at his leg. "That's how I knew who you were."

She said it so nonchalantly she surprised herself. She felt her cheeks grow hot, and she looked away from him and picked at the grass again. She hadn't meant to let on that she knew how he got his limp. That she knew his secret.

"I see," he said after a moment.

It was quiet for several minutes. Unable to take the awkwardness anymore, Annie dusted grass and crumbs off her lap and stood up. She held out her hand to him.

"Want to go find a car to borrow?" She asked.

He took her hand, and she helped him up. He paused for a moment, and then said, "I'm sorry, for what I said earlier. I don't think it's a waste of time, you know, to hope. I just haven't had a reason to in awhile."

* * *

They continued to head toward the city limits. Annie had pointed out several promising looking cars, but each one had something wrong with it. The first was a manual, the second had one of its headlights smashed out, and the third had a bumper sticker with an incredibly racist message on it.

They were growing frustrated in their lack of success and had almost decided just to continue on foot when Newt spotted a light blue Jeep on the side of the road. Its cover was off, and he jogged over to look inside.

"We're in luck," he said. He turned around and showed her his hand, which was holding a pair of keys.

Annie gave a triumphant cheer, then stopped herself. Someone had been forced to leave their car behind with the keys still inside. It could have even been someone she knew. She didn't want to think about what would cause someone to run off in such a hurry.

"You'll have to drive," she said as she walked to the passenger side door. "I never learned."

They got inside and Newt turned the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered and then started up. A red line showed that there was over half a tank of gas left. He looked down at the gearshift and pulled the lever back.

"Bloody hell!" Newt said as the car moved in reverse. He slammed on the brake and both of them lurched forward in their seats. Annie looked over as he clumsily moved the gearshift into drive. They went forward this time, and he narrowly avoided a fire hydrant as he drove off the sidewalk and back onto the road.

"Sorry," he said with a sheepish grin. "I don't really know how to drive either."

"What!" She looked at him with wide eyes. He shrugged and then swerved to avoid a block of concrete sitting in the road.

Annie put her seat belt on and sat back, arms crossed over her stomach. After a few choice swear words, Newt got the hang of it, and soon was cruising straight down the road. He found it was easier with no other cars and no traffic laws to obey.

The sun was setting once they made it to the end of the city. Newt looked at the clock in the dashboard with disappointment. He had hoped they would make it out before nightfall. He had wagered Annie would be the one to slow them down, but it had been him, not asking for help sooner when he had needed it. The Nexophan was still coursing through his system, making the pain in his chest more manageable. Compared to earlier, he felt great.

Stalled cars dotted the road leading out of the city. He drove slowly, turning the Jeep this way and that to avoid hitting anything. Bonfires were popping up off the sides of the road, and people huddled around their calming light. At the end of the road, just before the gaping hole in the wall, was a small group of people sitting on top of cars. The sound of their laughter reached the pair, and Newt slowed down to pass them.

Someone appeared at Annie's window, making the two of them jump.

"Well now, it's the doctor and her skinny friend with the headache!"

It was Cooper. He leaned on the door frame and smiled, watching them through half-shut eyes. His blonde hair hung limply on his thin shoulders.

"I'm feelin' much better," he said woozily. "Luís!" He called out, waving another man over. "This is who I was tellin' you about!"

The other man, Luís, was much larger than Cooper. He had no black veins marring his arms, but that did not make him any less intimidating. He jumped out of the bed of a pickup truck and strode over. He stopped next to Cooper and eyed them keenly.

"It's the Nex … Nexo … Nexophan girl," Cooper said, words slurring together.

"You two," Luís said abruptly. "Get out of the car."

Annie's hands were trembling as she unbuckled her seatbelt, but Newt put his hand over to stop her.

"Don't get out of the car Annie," he said.

The man let out an exasperated sigh. "I don't have all day," he said.

Newt turned to undo his buckle and glanced in the backseat. His bag was sitting on the floor, and inside was Annie's gun. He thought about grabbing for it, but didn't know what this man would do if he did. Maybe he had his own gun, and would shoot them before Newt even got the chance.

With some reluctance he turned back around and hopped out of the driver's side door, crossing the front of the Jeep until he stood near the two men. Luís straightened, holding his shaved head high while Cooper swayed nearby.

"My friend Coop tells me you hooked him up earlier," he said.

Newt looked at Cooper. "You believed him? Your friend is jacked out of his mind. You think we did that?"

Luís smirked. "I don't care who did it. If you want to get through on my road, you have to pay the toll, _comprende_?"

"We don't have any money," Newt said.

"Money," he said, laughing derisively. "I don't want money. Money means nothing anymore in this shit hole." He crossed his arms and looked down at Newt. "I want Bliss. And I know you have some."

"It's gone," Newt said. "He took it from us." He pointed at Cooper, who was now spinning in slow circles.

"Why don't I believe you?" He asked. "First you tell me you didn't hook him up, now you're saying he emptied your stock."

He looked over at Annie, sitting in the Jeep, and his mouth twitched into a smile. "Maybe I can get a straight answer out of your girl."

He turned to move but Newt put his arm out, blocking him.

"Oh so that's how it's gonna be," he said. His eyes flicked down to Newt's outstretched arm and then back up to his face. He sighed. "I gotta go through you, to get to her?" He pushed Newt's arm out of the way, but he moved to stand in front of Luís.

"Stop. I'll give you what we have," he said.

Luís laughed at him. "Too late, _pendejo_."

The next thing Newt felt was two strong hands slamming into his chest, knocking him backward and causing his breath to catch in his throat. He clumsily tried to regain his footing as waves of fresh pain radiated through his body, making his vision to blur and Luís go in and out of focus.

The pain was excruciating. He thought he might blackout, and tried to concentrate on something, anything, to stop it from happening.

"Newt!" Annie yelled as she opened her door and rushed over to him.

Luís laughed at them, a deep deriding sound.

"You sure you want him protecting you princess?" He said. He laughed again and spat on the ground, then approached her with his hand out. "Give me the bag."

Annie looked at Newt. He was hunched over, coughing as he tried to catch his breath. Despite his state, he shook his head at her.

She took off the bag and handed it to Luís.

He snatched it from her greedily and unzipped every pocket, emptying the contents onto the street. Clothes, food, tampons, serums, pills, the photo of her and her mom – all of these fell onto the dirty concrete.

Luís toed through the pile and let out a low whistle. "Look at that," he said.

He crouched down and inspected the labels on the bottles. He held up the bottle of Nexophan, shaking it.

"What did you do princess, rob a pharmacy?" He asked.

She avoided his gaze and looked at Newt instead. His face was gleaming with sweat, eyes squeezed shut as he fought through the pain.

"Look at this," Luís said as he held up a serum injector. "This is official looking shit! What is a little thing like you doing with this?"

"I work in medicine," she said flatly.

"Yeah?" He asked, watching the metal tube as he tilted the liquid back and forth. "Where?"

At this Newt snapped his head up. "Are you going to let us through?" He asked. He tried to stand upright and coughed again. Annie put her hand out to steady him.

Luís stood up. "You can go," he said to Newt dismissively. "But your friend stays."

"Take what you want," Annie said, looking at Newt. "But I'm not going anywhere without him."

"Listen to her," Luís jeered. " _I'm not going anywhere without him_ ," he said in a high-pitched voice. "So loyal to her little boyfriend when there's a real man right in front of her."

He grabbed Annie's arm and pulled her to him, putting his face inches from hers. His hot breath smelled like stale cigarettes and liquor and she had to resist the urge to gag. Somewhere in the background she heard Cooper laugh.

"We could take the Bliss together," he said, holding a bottle up for her to see. "It makes everything feel better."

He ran his calloused fingertips down her arm and winked. "Everything."

The slap came so fast Annie hadn't even realized she had moved. She looked at her stinging hand as Luís took a step back, nostrils flaring as he blinked at her rapidly.

" _Puta_ ," he spat out. He put his hand to his cheek.

Adrenaline coursed through her body, and she looked over at Newt, whose mouth was hanging open.

Luís rounded on her, and she thought he might hit her, or worse. She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. Instead, he laughed.

"You're crazy," he said. " _Loca_!" He laughed again and grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him.

"Go," he said suddenly. "You're not worth it." He pushed her away and took a step back. "Leave the good stuff."

She crouched down, tears welling up behind her eyelids as she collected the items he had poured out. With shaking hands she stuffed them back into her bag. Newt awkwardly knelt down beside her to help, still holding his chest. After a moment they both stood up and went back to the Jeep, hoping all the while that Luís wouldn't change his mind.

Newt started the engine, and Luís, Cooper, and the others parted to let them through.

"Don't come back!" Luís called out. "This city is mine now."

He kicked the back bumper as they passed and gave them a mocking salute, flipping them off. " _Que te folle un Crank!_ " They heard him yell.

Once they were out of the city and far enough away that they could no longer see Luís or Cooper, Newt stopped the Jeep.

"What are you doing?" Annie asked.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled something out.

"I believe this is yours," he said, tossing the item into her lap. "You look like her you know. I should have seen it."

Annie looked down. It was the photograph of her and her mom. Newt must have picked it up from the pile. It was from the day they had announced her mom as the new Chancellor. Annie had been so proud of her that day, and their smiling faces beamed up at her from her lap.

She looked at Newt. His hands gripped the steering wheel, jaw set as he looked straight ahead. When Annie said nothing, he let off the brake, and they moved forward again. She put the photograph in her jacket pocket and looked out the open window, gazing off at nothing as he tore through the barren land.

* * *

It was late. Newt stopped the Jeep and turned off the engine. He kept his hands on the wheel, trying to maintain composure.

"Do you know how bloody lucky you are?" He asked, finally breaking the silence between them.

Annie did not respond. If Newt wanted to talk, she would let him. He turned toward her and held up his hand as he counted off.

"One, you're a 'munie. Two, Ava Paige is your mum. Three, you didn't have to go through the trials, because your mum is the bloody Chancellor. Four, you have all your memories. Five, you spent your nights in the most posh flat I have ever seen, while the rest of us shuck faces were stuck in a bloody maze. Stuck without hope. Without a reason to go on."

"Are you done?" Annie asked.

"Six," he continued, ignoring her. "You think you can do whatever the bloody hell you want, and you'll get away with it because you're Annie buggin' Paige and no one has ever told you no." He threw his hands up. "God, the privilege!"

"You make it sound so simple Newt," she said. "But you barely even know me."

He snorted obstinately, and she continued.

"I did not choose my parents. I did not choose my upbringing. You say I had privilege – so what? Does that make me a bad person? I worked for WICKED because I had the same vision as my mom. You want to malign her, but she wanted to help people. People like you."

"Oh thank you Annie," he scoffed. "So considerate of you. In case you forgot, up until yesterday the only thing your mum had ever done for me was torture my friends and use me as a control subject in her little games."

"Those 'little games' were all about finding a cure. It was all my mom ever wanted." She paused. "My father had the Flare you know. She was trying to save him too. When I started working there, I kept his name - Williams - not hers. I wanted to remember just what we were fighting for."

"And what are you fighting for now, huh? The trials are over Annie. You and your mum lost the fight. So why are you in this bloody car? Why did you bring me back?"

He stared hard at her, his dark eyes daring her to give him an answer.

"I just ... wanted to help. After everything ... it's not too late ..." She tried to articulate but the words wouldn't come out. He was making her nervous.

"Slim it," he said. "Every word out of your mouth is a lie." He slumped forward and rested his forehead on the steering wheel.

"I shouldn't have let you come," he murmured.

"What?" She had heard him, but his words surprised her.

"I knew better than to trust you. You said I could trust you, but I can't. I thought I could look past you working for WICKED, but knowing you're her daughter …"

"That's not fair," She interjected.

"No, it's not, is it?" He looked at her. "For once your mum being Chancellor doesn't get you everything you want. How does that make you feel, knowing life isn't fair? Some of us figured that out a long time ago. It's time you caught up."

He turned away from her and leaned his seat back as far as it could go. A moment later he heard the passenger side door open and Annie get out. For a second he thought about telling her to stay in the car, but decided against it. Let her get bloody eaten for all he cared. Served her right, the way she had hidden who she really was. How could he trust her now?

But in the darkness, alone for the first time in days, a small voice rebuked him. She had done nothing but help him since he met her. Why push her away now, for something she had no control over? He banished the thought away and looked up through the roof of the Jeep.

Above, the sky was a dull black expanse. He thought maybe if he could touch it, it would swallow him up and he wouldn't have to deal with this world anymore. WICKED had taken everything from him. His memories, his family, his friends. Now Annie had brought him back just to take from him all over again; to use him as her ticket to get out of a city where her very name put her in danger. He decided if she didn't come back by morning, he would continue on alone. Shuck it. He didn't need her. He looked up at the dark sky again. He didn't need anyone.


	3. Blood Ties

Annie's heels clicked on the concrete floor as she looked down at her tablet, absentmindedly avoiding others walking through the hallway. The place was buzzing with activity; change was on the horizon, and everyone could feel it. Her eyes grew wider and wider while she re-read the e-mail she had just received.

 _"Ava Paige is the new Chancellor of WICKED, effective immediately."_

Her mom, Chancellor.

Her heart beat wildly within her as she walked faster to her mother's office. She had to hear the news, in person. Maybe someone was playing a rotten practical joke, had gotten hold of Thomas and Chancellor Anderson's tablets. Outside the door she raised her hand to knock, but it opened before she got the chance.

Her mom stood on the other side, face beaming.

"Come in!" She said.

Annie entered and walked to the couch like usual but found herself too agitated to sit. Her mom's excitement was contagious, and she had to resist the urge to launch into a thousand questions.

"What's going on?" She asked. "What is this?" She pointed at the open e-mail on the tablet.

Ava's eyes sparkled as she grabbed her daughter's hand.

"It's all set Antoinette. As of this morning, I've been named as new Chancellor." Her eyes searched her daughter's, waiting for her expression to mirror her own.

That made it real enough. The corners of Annie's eyes crinkled, and a wide smile broke out on her face.

"That's amazing news mom!" She squeezed her mom's hand enthusiastically and pulled her into a hug.

"I know," Ava said as she rubbed her daughter's back. "Me, in charge of all of WICKED." She pulled back and brushed her hair out of her face. "We're going to help so many people. Finally, I don't have to go through Anderson anymore."

Annie's face paled. In the excitement she had forgotten that part.

"So it's true?" She asked. "He had the Flare all along?"

Ava nodded sadly. "He kept it hidden well, but the truth must always eventually come out."

"And you?" Annie asked quickly. "Are you …?"

"Clean. Cleared for service."

She let out a large breath. "Oh thank God."

"We will do some real good around here Annie. The Maze variables are giving us tons of data, Thomas and the others are progressing nicely … this is the first time in a long time I have actually felt hope."

"I don't know why you ever doubted." Annie held up her arm, the one with her watch on it, and smiled.

"WICKED is good."

XXXXX

Newt awoke, unsure where he was, until the soreness in his back reminded him he had, in fact, spent the night in a car.

He opened his eyes and saw the sun coming up in the east, spreading its light on the top of the hill he had parked by for the night. He brought his seat up, looked out the window, and rubbed his eyes.

They were in the middle of a desert. The ground was an earthy, rusted orange, dotted with small green bushes and prickly cacti. The blue sky overhead was cloudless. It would be a hot day.

He looked over at the seat next to him. Annie was still gone.

He stretched his arms up, rounding his back as he tried to work out the kinks. He had slept well even if he had been uncomfortable. His chest was sore, and he ran his fingers absentmindedly over the stitches as he thought about the previous night.

He had felt so angry. He was still angry. He had always thought of himself as being easy-going, but now he wondered if this side of him, this anger, had always been just below the surface, waiting for its chance to come out.

 _Or_ , he thought, _maybe it's the Crank we've caged trying to break free_.

He looked around, but saw no signs of his companion. He knew he had to find her even though it grated on his pride to do it. He damn well wasn't going to apologize, that was for sure. He wasn't sorry for what he had said to her. Everything had been true. But, he wasn't so heartless as to leave her out here alone.

She was a Greenie after all.

He opened the car door and swung himself out. The hill was steep, but he managed the climb with little trouble, only slipping once or twice on the loose rocks. As he crested the top he saw Annie sitting cross-legged, watching the sun come up.

He sat down next to her and pulled his knees up.

"All right?" He asked after a moment.

She turned to him, eyes puffy and red. "I don't know. Is it?"

He said nothing, just looked out over the expanse. He wanted to tell her it wasn't, that he was still angry. He wanted to shake her until all her secrets fell out.

Instead he said, "I don't hate you, you know."

She snorted. "Oh, thanks."

"I mean it," he said. "You're not the one I hate."

She tilted her head and looked at him. "You mean my mom though, right? You hate her?"

"Well …" he picked at rocks near his feet, lifting them up and dropping them down again. "We've always had an enemy to fight against, you know? And that enemy is WICKED. Your mum, well, she was its face. To us, she _became_ WICKED."

"I see."

"It's just kind of hard to find out the person who saved your life is the daughter of the one who tried to end it."

"But my mom never killed anyone."

"Debatable," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "Her hands are not clean Annie. But you understand, yeah?"

"I just … didn't want you to find out that way," she said.

"Was I ever going to find out?" He asked. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

She frowned, shaking her head. "Probably not."

He ran his hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not going to pretend I'm okay with it because I'm not. I'm not going to pretend we're okay, because we're not. But I'm also not going to leave you out here in this bloody desert to fend for yourself."

He stood up, dusted off his pants, and held out his hand to her. "Let's make a deal. You don't keep any more secrets from me, and I'll make sure we both make it to the Safe Haven. We don't have to be friends, but we can still watch each other's backs."

Annie held out her hand and hesitated before slipping it in his. "Deal."

* * *

Back at the Jeep Newt opened his bag and pulled out a shirt, waving it in the air a few times to get the wrinkles out. He held it up to his nose and sniffed.

"Good enough," he said. He pulled off his shirt and threw it in the bag.

"The stitches look good," Annie said, eyeing him. "Bit of bruising though."

He shrugged into his new shirt. "Yeah and the bloody Nexophan is gone. Hope those shanks enjoy it."

Annie grabbed her bag and pulled out a shirt. It was a plain T-shirt, one Newt had picked out for her. She grabbed the hem of her shirt, and then hesitated, looking at him.

"A little privacy," she said.

He rolled his eyes in jest but turned around and crossed his arms.

She pulled the new shirt on and quietly sighed with relief. The clean fabric felt marvelous against her sticky skin. She put her jacket back on and threw the old shirt back in her bag.

"All right, I'm good."

He turned back around and got into the Jeep. He turned the key, and the car whined in response before starting.

He groaned. "We're low on petrol," he said. "Can you look for a map?"

Annie opened the glove compartment and pulled out a thick, folded paper. "This?"

"Yeah," he said. "Can you open it and find the nearest city?"

She unfolded it on her lap. "Where are we now?"

He leaned over and began tracing his finger on the paper. "I think we're about … here." He said, pointing at a spot in the middle of the desert.

"And you want to get to …" her eyes searched over the map. She looked confused. "Where?"

"Do you not know how to read a map?" He asked.

"No, my phone had an app," she said. "Do you?"

He thought back to the Glade, to the piles and piles of papers they had pored over for years and smirked. "Yes, I think so."

He found the nearest town – Redwick Creek – a small dot on the map southwest of where they were. He put the car into drive and headed toward it.

The surrounding area had no roads, just miles of open, uninhabited land. A cloud of dust trailed after their Jeep, and Newt pulled his scarf up over his face. While he drove, Annie pressed the power button on the stereo system. Loud static blared through the speakers, and she quickly turned it down and scanned through the stations. There was nothing, except for an AM station with a man saying the end was nigh and that sinners should repent and be saved.

"God, I wish we had some music," she said. She turned off the radio and looked at Newt. "What kind of music do you like?"

"Huh?" He pulled down the scarf.

"Music – do you like music?"

"Oh." He frowned. "I, uh, sure? I think so?"

"You don't know?" She asked, laughing.

"Don't remember," he said.

"Oh," she said. "What's that like?"

"It's uh …" he paused, trying to find the words. "Bloody weird. I can remember some stuff, world events, the names of things. But it's like … waking up and grasping at the whispers of a dream you've already forgotten." He stared out the window, and Annie thought he looked sad.

"I'm sure you do," she said. "Everyone likes music. I peg you as … a Clash fan. They're unapologetically British, like you."

"What do they sound like?" He asked.

"Loud. Rebellious. Lots of guitar."

"That sounds all right," he said with a grin. "Do you know any of their songs?"

"Um," Annie paused and then began to tap out a beat on the dashboard, singing a few lines from one of their hits.

Newt looked over at her once she finished, fighting a smile. "That was bloody awful." He burst out laughing.

"I never said I could sing!" She protested.

They went on like this for the next several miles, Annie asking Newt about his interests, him not remembering exactly what he liked or didn't like. She continued to guess for him until she painted an image he wasn't sure was accurate or not.

He knew he liked being outside; he knew he liked spending time with his friends. He knew there was a sport called football though he couldn't remember which team he had rooted for. He knew he did not like being lied to or controlled, or his friends being threatened.

After awhile the outskirts of a small town came into view, growing larger and larger until they stopped just outside it.

The town was more of a dirt road with dilapidated buildings lining its street than an actual city. A banner with multi-colored plastic flags stretched across the entrance, flapping in the late morning wind. Newt drove under it, keeping his eyes peeled for somewhere they could fill up.

Slowly they went down the strip, passing a post office, a general store, and a boarded up ice cream parlor before stopping in front of a rundown mechanic's shop.

Newt leaned around his seat and rummaged in his bag. When he turned back around, he was holding Annie's gun.

"Do you think we'll need that?" She asked.

"Let's hope not," he said.

He got out and tucked it into the back of his pants and then walked up to the building. Unlike the others it was made of metal, and the rusted door opened easily, its hinges creaking as it swung out. Inside, it smelled like stale oil and old rubber. Thick dust covered the windows, choking the air with its dry, musty taste.

They explored the room, looking under desks, behind stacks of tires, and under lifts, but neither could find a can of gas.

"Let's look out back," Newt said.

Behind the shop there was a small lot with a chain-link fence around its perimeter. Some cars in the lot had rusted, and most were missing tires and windows. They looked like they had been abandoned ages ago. Newt walked by each one and stuck a crowbar down into the gas tank, testing to see if it came back wet.

"Aha," he said, as he pulled it out of a red Camaro. "Go back inside and see if you can find something to siphon this with, would you?"

Annie went back into the shop and looked around for a rubber hose. She found one sitting on a workbench and picked it up, accidentally knocking off a screwdriver that had been lying on top. Something sounded in the rafters above and she saw a bird escape through a hole in the roof, cawing at her as it flew out.

Her skin tingled, and she felt a sudden urgency to get back to Newt. She grabbed an empty motor oil can and went back outside, handing the items to him.

He stuck the hose down into the gas tank and sucked on the end until pale yellow liquid ran up the tube. He took his mouth away quickly and stuck the end into the tin can.

After a minute it overflowed, and he crimped the hose and pulled it out of the car. He carried the can back around the side of the building to where they had parked and set it down next to their Jeep.

"Want to see if there's anything else here before we go?" He asked.

She did not want to, but decided she'd follow his lead. They crossed the street and went into the general store.

A bell on the other side of the door jingled as they entered. The store was mostly empty, but they went down each aisle, looking for anything that might be helpful. Annie picked up a package of expired trail mix while Newt took a Zippo lighter off of a rotating rack.

"Got any cash?" She joked as they walked by the register.

Outside they went back to the car, and Newt began to fill the tank with gas. Annie hovered nearby, moving from one foot to the other as she watched him.

"What's wrong?" He asked her.

"I have to pee."

"There's a bathroom behind the store," he said. "I saw a sign inside."

Annie hesitated, but couldn't wait any longer. She went around the side of the building and stopped in front of what was basically a glorified outhouse.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said.

She opened the door and a swarm of flies flew out. She shook her head, muttering as she latched the hook on the door behind her.

She pulled down her pants and hovered over the hole, silently praying that there were no snakes hiding beneath her. She finished and went to the sink to wash her hands, but no water came out.

"Great." She put her hands on the sides of the sink and saw her reflection in a tiny mirror hanging on the wall.

Her mouth fell open. She looked terrible. Her eyes were still swollen from crying, and her hair, usually perfectly curled around her shoulders, was a tangled mess from sleeping outside all night. She raked her fingers through it, flinching as she pulled through the knots, when Newt knocked on the door.

"Just a minute!" She called out.

She wasn't used to looking so disheveled, and she felt embarrassed even though the only person who would see her was Newt.

Resigned to the fact that without a shower and a gallon of conditioner this was as good as it would get, she unlatched the door and stepped outside.

A heavy weight dropped in the pit of her stomach. She felt goose bumps prickle her skin, despite the hot noon sun beating down on her.

It wasn't Newt.

She swallowed hard, looking at the woman in front of her. She might have been pretty once, but now she was missing half of her mouth, exposing grey, chipped teeth underneath. A thick, tarry liquid dripped from where her lips should have been, falling in droplets on the dusty ground below. She shifted back and forth, watching Annie with hungry, feral eyes.

"Newt," she choked out.

Back at the car, Newt was screwing the cap on the gas tank when a strangled scream came from behind the building, making him jump. He dropped the can and hurried around the side, panting as he rounded the corner to the back.

He clamped his hand to his mouth and everything went into slow motion.

Annie was on the ground. Straddling her was a woman - no, not a woman. A Crank. She had Annie pinned down, her grotesque mouth inches away from her face, snapping at her and sending black spittle everywhere - onto Annie's face, her hair, into her mouth as she screamed for help.

"Newt!"

Everything snapped back into focus. He reached behind his back and grabbed at the cool metal object under his shirt. He raised it, hand shaking, into the air.

He plugged his ear and tugged on the trigger. The noise echoed off the buildings, rang in his ears, and the Crank popped her face up, looking for the source of the sound.

When her eyes caught Newt she snarled and jumped off of Annie. She ran toward him, eyes wild with bloodlust and rage.

When she was only a few meters away, he lowered his arm.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

A second shot rang out, and she crumpled to the ground, dead.

He dropped the gun and ran over to Annie, kneeling in the dirt by her side.

"Are you all right?" He asked. He turned her arms over, pushed her head this way and that to look for wounds.

"I … I think so," she said. Her body trembled with shock. She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked at Newt. "You saved me," she said breathlessly.

"Consider us even," he said. He looked around. "We should get back to the car in case there's more. Are you all right to walk?"

She nodded, and he helped her up, but she swayed forward, and would have fallen to the ground again if Newt hadn't been there to steady her.

"Mother –," she hissed.

"What's wrong?" He asked. He gently set her back on the ground.

"She got me," she said between clenched teeth. "My leg." She leaned back and pointed.

Newt lifted the hem of her pants. Under the fabric were five deep, red lines running down the side of her calf toward her ankle.

"We gotta get you back to the car," he said. He helped her up and slung her arm around his neck, stooping down as they hobbled back together.

He lifted her into the backseat, and she leaned back, holding her leg out the open door.

"What do I do?" He asked. All of their medicine had been taken back at the city. He eyed her leg anxiously. He knew how quickly a Crank scratch could get infected even if you were an Immune.

"Alcohol," she said between panting breaths. The shock that had kept her from feeling the injury was wearing off, and the pain was setting in. She squeezed the side of the seat and closed her eyes.

Newt opened his bag and pulled out a bottle of liquor and towels he had grabbed from her kitchen back at the apartment.

"What now?" He asked.

"Pour it," she said.

He unscrewed the cap, hesitating as he held the open bottle above her leg.

"You sure?" He asked.

"Just do it."

Annie had seen people in pain before, had read about horrendous injuries in her medical textbooks. But nothing she had seen or read could have prepared her for what she felt now.

Her leg was on fire, and Newt had lit the match.

She arched her back and slammed her fist into the back of the driver's seat, over and over again as he continued to pour.

"Damn it Newt!" She cried.

"I'm sorry!"

She tilted her head back, squeezed her eyes shut as the sky above her spun. He poured the last of the bottle and then tossed it onto the ground behind him.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

"I will be. How … how does it look?" She sat up and rubbed at her face, wiping away tears.

"About as good as that felt," he said. "What do I do now?"

"Get my bag," she said. "Get my scarf out."

He did as she said and held up a length of black cotton.

"You'll have to do it," she said.

She jerked violently as the fabric touched her skin, and Newt gave her an apologetic smile as he wound it around her leg. He tied it off with a thick knot and stood back.

"How's that?" He asked.

"Good enough," she said. "Guess we both have fucked up legs now."

"Finally, something in common." He winked at her and helped guide her leg back into the car before going around to the driver's side door.

They continued to drive in silence, except for Annie grunting every time Newt drove over a bump. He tried to talk to her to keep her mind off the pain, ask her questions about frivolous interests. But after awhile her answers were coming less frequently, and he looked in the rearview mirror to see that her eyes were closed and her face had become pallid, gleaming with sweat.

"We can't keep going like this," he said. "We have to stop."

But there was nowhere for them to go. He didn't want to risk stopping in a city again, in case they ran into another Crank. The sun was setting, and he turned on the headlights. The desolate landscape went on for miles, reminding him they were alone, just the two of them, the half-Crank boy and the Chancellor's daughter.

* * *

Annie was no longer responding to him. He thought about pulling over for the night, starting a fire and seeing if she could be roused long enough to eat. His foot hovered over the brake when he saw something flickering in the distance. He rubbed his tired eyes, but the light remained. He pushed down on the gas again and headed in its direction, hoping it wasn't an illusion of the night.

When he got closer, he saw it was a farmhouse – or something like it. A lantern was hanging outside the front door, swaying in the breeze. He stopped the car next to a wooden fence and hopped out.

He walked up the dirt path to the porch and raised his hand to the front door but hesitated. He didn't know what might be inside – was this a risk he wanted to take?

He knocked. No one answered, and he knocked again. He stepped back, looking for signs of life inside. A lantern went on in an upstairs room and then disappeared. He thought perhaps whoever was there was going to pretend they weren't home when a man opened the door. He held a lantern out in Newt's face, making him blink.

"Yeah?" The man asked gruffly.

"Sorry. I'm, uh, Newt," he stammered. "My friend - she's hurt. She's in the car, over there." He jabbed his thumb behind him.

"So?" The man said.

"We need help. She's not well."

"You's Cranks?" He asked.

"She's Immune," Newt said.

The man squinted at him, then, seemingly deciding he looked trustworthy enough, nodded and grabbed the other lantern outside the door, handing it to Newt.

"Show me." He said.

Newt turned around and went back down the dirt path with the man following behind him.

At the car the man gave a low whistle. "Your friend doesn't look too good," he said.

Newt almost thanked him for stating the obvious, but held his tongue.

"Can we stay here tonight?" He asked instead. "I don't know where else to go."

"Well, uh …" The man hesitated, looking back at the house and then at Annie. "Sure." He said. "You can stay in the barn."

He opened the door and put his arms under Annie, scooping her up and carrying her back toward the house. Newt hung his lantern back on the hook and went in behind him.

In the faint light, Newt could see that the rustic house was decorated simply, and had a certain homespun appeal. The room they were in smelled like pipe tobacco and cedar, and he noticed an old wagon wheel hanging above a pot-bellied stove.

"Frank?" A woman entered the room, stopping just inside the doorframe. She wiped her hands on her apron. "What you got there?" She asked, looking at the trio.

"This one here just came knockin' on the door," the man named Frank said. "Said his friend was hurt. What's her name, uh, Newt?"

"Annie," he said as he hovered nearby. "Annie Williams."

"She doesn't look too good Frank," the woman said.

"I know. Told him they could stay in the barn tonight."

"Nonsense," the woman said. "Look at the state of her." She suddenly looked to her left. "Hey you two – get back to bed!"

Newt looked over. A teenage boy was watching them from the entrance of a dark hallway, standing next to a girl who looked about five or six years old. They didn't say anything, and turned back around.

"What happened to her?" Mary asked as Frank laid Annie down gently on a sofa.

"She was attacked," Newt said. "By a Crank. We cleaned the wound but …" his voice trailed off.

"Go to the kitchen Mary," Frank said.

She obeyed him without question, and came back with a glass bottle full of a murky liquid, and stained rags.

"What's that?" Newt asked as the woman approached.

"Old family recipe," she said. She sat down and unwound the black cloth, peeling it off her wound. She clicked her tongue. "Oh heavens, that does not look good. Have a seat young man. This will take a minute." She said.

Newt sat down in a nearby recliner and watched as Mary gently worked on Annie's leg. Annie stirred, murmuring something, but did not open her eyes.

"You can stay in here tonight," Mary said. "We'll take a look at her again in the morning."

"Thank you," Newt said sincerely. "Really."

"Let me get you some blankets," Mary said. "Frank? Get the boy some of Tyler's things. Think they're about the same size."

Frank left and came back a few minutes later with a shirt and a pair of soft pants for Newt. Too tired for modesty, he changed in the middle of the living room.

Frank eyed him curiously. "What happened to you?" He asked.

Newt decided in that moment that these were not people he wanted to lie to.

"I got stabbed." He said.

"Is that right?" Frank asked. He raised his eyebrows and made a _humph_ sound. He continued to look at Newt but did not ask more about it. "I'll have Mary take a look at that tomorrow," he said. "You two just get some sleep tonight."

"We will," Newt said.

Mary came back with blankets, and then her and Frank disappeared down the hallway, the light of the lantern slowly fading until the room was filled only with cold, pale moonlight. Newt sat down on the floor next to the sofa and looked at Annie.

He had been so mad at her that morning. Now he was waiting on the hope she would survive the night. She looked almost peaceful, and he wondered what Mary had used on her. He picked up the bottle and took a whiff. He grimaced. It smelled like garlic and vinegar and pungent herbs. He set it down and stood up.

"Don't die, Greenie," he said as he covered her with a quilt.

He went back to the chair. He watched her until his eyelids grew too heavy, feeling that for once, everything might be okay.


	4. Lavender

Newt's eyes snapped open. A rooster's crow had awakened him from a long, peaceful dream, which he now felt slipping away. In it he had walked down stone lined country lanes, had watched sheep grazing in green pastures. He could still taste the tea and fresh cream on his tongue. He blinked as that world faded away, and the world around him came into focus.

He was sitting in a chair, in a room that looked vaguely familiar. Across the way, Annie was asleep on a sofa, curled up under a thick, handmade quilt.

The events of the night before rushed back to him, and he jumped up, setting his blanket on the recliner. He crossed to the sofa and crouched down, putting the back of his hand to her forehead. She felt warm, but had color back in her face. She was breathing easier than she had been last night.

"Good morning," a woman's voice called out.

He stood up, startled that he wasn't alone.

"Morning," he called out cautiously. He walked around the sofa and went toward the kitchen where the voice had come from.

Mary was standing in front of a ceramic sink peeling potatoes, her bare feet shuffling back and forth on a woven rug.

"Sleep well?" She asked.

She moved to the stove and flipped bacon. It sizzled in the hot cast iron pan, and Newt's mouth watered.

"Actually, yeah." He ran his hand through his hair, trying to flatten it down.

"Your friend Annie looks better," she said. "I changed her bandages while you two were sleeping. The scratch doesn't look as nasty as last night."

"You didn't have to do that." He realized that might sound rude, so he added, "But, thank you."

"Why don't you have a seat at the table and I'll fix you a plate."

He sat down in a wooden chair and looked around while Mary hummed a pleasant tune.

The kitchen was a small space, with hand scraped plank floors and one window facing out to the east. Its lacy curtains were drawn back to let in the morning sun, which reflected cheerfully off Mary's red hair. Shelves covered the wall opposite the sink, each one holding about a dozen canning jars. Every jar had something inside it, and Newt's eyes scanned the hand-written labels. Fermented apples, pickled jalapenos, chicken livers, masa harina. His stomach growled.

The wood floor creaked, and the man from last night walked in.

"Morning sweetheart," he said, kissing Mary on the cheek. "Are the kids still sleeping?"

"Tyler got up early, he's outside in the barn. Tilly's still asleep."

"Well, she better wake up or she'll miss breakfast." He gave a curt nod to Newt then left the room.

Newt watched the scene in awe. It all seemed so … normal. When was the last time he had seen a family like this? Was he still dreaming?

Soon the man reappeared, holding the little girl from the night before. She rubbed her eyes and looked at Newt.

"Matilda, this is Newt," Frank said.

"Hi," she said shyly. Frank set her down, and she walked over to him.

"Hello Matilda," he said.

She giggled. "You sound funny."

Newt smiled, and she climbed onto the chair next to him, watching him curiously. She yawned and looked at her mother.

"Mama, who's the pretty lady on the sofa?" She asked.

"That's Annie," her mom said. "She and Newt are going to stay with us today. Isn't that fun?"

Tilly looked at Newt again. "Does she like to play dolls?"

"I reckon she does," he said. "She has lots of clothes back home to play dress-up with."

"I like dolls, but Tyler isn't very good at pretend."

Something stirred in the living room, and Annie's head popped up. Newt rose from his seat and went into the room, leaning over the back of the sofa.

"Welcome back." He gave her shoulder a light squeeze.

"Where are we?" She sniffed the air and her eyes widened. "Do I smell bacon?"

Mary appeared next to Next, and smiled down at Annie. "Oh good, you're awake. How are you feeling dear?"

"I … uh … better?" She looked back and forth at the woman and Newt.

"I'm Mary," she said, sensing her confusion. "How about you come into the kitchen and have some breakfast. We can talk in there." Something high-pitched whistled from the kitchen and her face brightened.

"Kettle's ready!" She gathered her apron in her hands and hurried back to the other room.

Annie stared at Newt. "Okay, what the hell is going on?"

"It's all right. I think." He came around the sofa and held out his hands to her. "Come and see."

He helped her up, letting her lean on his arm as they walked into the kitchen together. He pulled out a chair for her and she sat down, stretching her leg out beneath the table.

"Hello," Tilly said, a little bolder now.

"Hi," Annie said.

She smiled at the young girl, but kept her eyes on the strange woman at the stove, and the man sitting across from her at the table. He ignored her and continued to read his outdated newspaper.

"So, Annie, I'm sure your head is spinning," Mary began. "So let me tell you what happened, and Newt can fill in the rest. Newt here came knockin' on our door at who knows what time. He told Frank you were hurt and needed looking after. Frank here -," she pointed at the man, who grunted in response, "- brought you in. I changed those bandages of yours, cleaned your leg up a bit. Those are some nasty scratches you have."

"You did this?" Annie asked, pointing at the bandages.

"Yes." She set a plate of food down in front of her. "It was nothing really."

"She was a nurse." Frank interjected from behind his paper. "Twenty-five years."

Annie perked up. "Really? I work in medicine too. What did you use on it? Mycitracin? It feels a lot better."

Mary pulled a bottle out from under the sink. "Family recipe." She sloshed the contents around and smiled before setting it down and stirring the potatoes.

Annie frowned and Newt chuckled softly as he heard her mutter something about a "damn homeopath" under her breath.

"Tyler!" The woman called out through the open window. "Breakfast!"

A few minutes later a boy entered. He looked about fourteen. His gait still held the awkwardness of youth, as if his limbs were trying to race each other to see which could grow the fastest. He eyed them warily as he passed.

"I still they're still here," he muttered as he grabbed a plate.

"Yes," Mary said. "They're our guests for the day. But, maybe if you ask him nicely, Newt will help you with your chores after breakfast."

"I don't need help."

He sat down and watched the pair under hooded eyes, chewing on his bacon.

"We didn't get to meet last night," Newt said, stretching his hand across the table. "I'm Newt, and this is Annie."

The boy didn't return the gesture. He swallowed his food and smirked at him. "What kind of name is Newt?"

"Tyler!" Mary turned around from the stove. "Don't be rude."

He sunk in his chair and stabbed at an egg with his fork, watching the yolk run over his toast.

"Do you like dolls Annie?" Tilly asked.

Annie turned to her. "I did, when I was your age. I had one named Kirsten; she had a pretty dress and a plaid bonnet."

Tilly's eyes shone. "Will you play with me, after breakfast?"

"After I take another look at her leg," Mary said. "Then you can play."

"I don't know if that's a good idea Ma," Tyler said.

Tilly pouted. "Why?"

"Because we don't know a damn thing about these people."

"Language!" Mary scolded. "Tyler, don't forget what the good Lord says about being kind to strangers."

He threw his fork down on his plate, and Tilly jumped at the noise.

"I'm going outside." He stood up and walked out of the kitchen to the backyard, letting the screen door slam behind him.

Mary went to the table and picked up his plate. She put a gentle hand on Frank's shoulder and eyed Newt and Annie with sympathy. "He's a little wary of new people," she said.

Frank folded his newspaper. "I'll go talk to him."

"Why don't I go," Newt offered. "I can help him with his chores too."

He stood up and took his plate to the sink, then went out through the door into the backyard. They must have lived on several acres of land because Newt could not see neighbors from any direction. Raised garden beds stood in the distance, near a chicken coop that housed the rooster he had heard. About a hundred meters away was a small pond, with a large tree at its edge.

Tyler was at the end of a stone path, standing inside a rundown barn. He was bent over next to a truck, trying to loosen the lug nuts on a flat tire. He pushed down on the wrench and gritted his teeth, but it wouldn't turn.

"Can I help?" Newt asked as he walked up.

Tyler looked up and rolled his eyes. "No thanks."

He tried again, but when it still wouldn't budge he let out an angry groan and threw the wrench on the ground. "Damn it!"

Newt picked it up and gestured for Tyler to step aside. He placed the wrench over the lug nut, then threw all of his weight onto it. It spun counterclockwise.

Tyler glared at him. "I could have done that."

"You can do the next one," Newt said, handing it back to him.

Tyler tried the second one which turned much easier. His shoulders relaxed, and he moved onto the third.

Newt leaned on a support beam nearby and crossed his arms.

"We're really not bad people," he said as Tyler continued to work. "We ran into a tough spot yesterday. I didn't expect your mum to do so much for us though."

"That's just how she is," Tyler said. "It's in her blood to bring in strays."

Newt tilted his head. "She does this often?"

"Sometimes. The first time was fourteen years ago when she brought me in."

"Oh," Newt said. "You're adopted?"

Tyler nodded and let out a sigh of relief once he had loosened the final one. Newt stepped away from the beam and helped him slide the jack under the truck.

"Look, I'm not trying to cause problems for you or your family," Newt said. "My friend was really sick and needed help. We'll be out of here soon, and we won't bother you anymore."

He stepped away and turned toward the barn door, satisfied that Tyler could handle the rest of the job.

"Well, just hold on a second," Tyler said, wiping sweat off his forehead. "Before you go, I've got more chores to do. Might as well make yourself useful. With you helpin', I'll be able to finish early for once."

"Sure," Newt said, glad that the boy's attitude had lost its edge. "What do you need?"

"Weeding and watering the garden beds?"

Newt's mouth curved into a smile. "I think I can manage that."

* * *

Annie sat at the kitchen table, watching as Mary washed dishes and handed them to Tilly. The little girl stacked the dishes neatly on the counter and sang a nursery rhyme about rabbits as she worked.

"So, tell me more about this place," Annie said as Mary wiped crumbs out of the cast iron pan.

"It's our farm," Mary said. "We moved here, after the ... well, you know. We lived in a city before but … we thought it would be safer here. There's no electricity, no internet, no nothing out here. Just the four of us. And some chickens."

"That sounds kind of nice," Annie said. "I'm from the city too."

"It is nice. Wish we would have done it years ago, Flare or not. It's been good for us and the children especially. They're a lot calmer out here. It's good for all of us to have some calm in our lives."

She put the last pan away in a cupboard and dried her hands on a towel. "Let's go to the living room and I'll take another look at that ankle."

Annie followed her into the living room, followed closely behind by Tilly. The three of them sat down on the sofa, and Annie put her leg up on the coffee table. Mary unwound the white cotton bandage and gave a satisfied smile.

"It's better," she said. "You'll have scarring though. What did you use on it?"

"Alcohol," Annie said. "Eighty proof liquor."

Mary clicked her tongue. "Skin around the scratches will never be the same. You killed off some healthy cells, doing that. Bet it stung like the dickens too."

She pulled a tin of ointment out of her apron pocket and opened it. With a gentle touch she patted it over the scratches. It stung badly at first, but then cooled and numbed the skin. Annie squeezed a pillow to her stomach, trying not to move her leg.

"You said you're from the city too?" Mary asked, trying to distract her as she worked.

"Yeah, I lived there for awhile. It was a bit different than this." She looked around the room and winced as Mary touched a particularly tender spot.

"It is different. But you get used to it, the quiet. Find out you don't need much to live on besides a good book, some home-cooked food, and the love of some good people. Is Newt your young man?" She asked.

"What? Uh, no." Next to her Tilly giggled, and she felt her face grow warm. "We only met a few days ago, back in the city."

"Ah," a smile played at the corner of Mary's lips.

"We take care of each other," Annie said. "It's an unlikely partnership, but it works. Well, most of the time."

"Like me and Frank," Mary said. "He used to be a stockbroker. He was all facts and numbers, only cared about the bottom line. But for me, it was always about the people. You know how it is, working in medicine. In the end, he said that's what he loved most about me."

"Do you miss it?" Annie asked. "Being a nurse?"

"Sometimes. There was always something to do, and I miss feeling like I was making a real difference in the lives of people every day. But, would I change anything? No. There's nothing more important than family."

Her brow furrowed in concentration as she wound fresh cotton around Annie's leg.

"Now, family isn't always just blood," she said. "Sometimes it's your friends, or your coworkers, or even someone you just met on the street who helped you in a time of need. But family is what comes first, in my opinion."

Annie looked down. "I don't know where my family is," she admitted. "My dad … left. I don't know where my mom is."

Mary tied off the bandage and pointed at the door in the back of the house. "Then he's your family now," she said matter-of-factly. "Keep him close."

* * *

Annie sat outside with Tilly, playing with cornhusk dolls under the shade of a Cottonwood tree at the back of the house. She could see Newt and Tyler over by the garden beds, and she shielded her eyes and watched them as they pulled weeds and picked off dead leaves. They seemed to be getting on all right, after the rough start at the breakfast table.

They came up to the house around noon, hands covered in dirt and shirts clinging to their sweat-soaked skin. Tyler poured a bucket of water over his head, shaking his hair around and spraying Tilly. She squealed, giving a toothy grin as she shielded herself behind Annie.

"Come on Newt," he said. "Lunch time."

Newt followed him into the kitchen where Mary already stood at the counter.

"Hungry boys?" She asked. She handed them plates stacked high with food.

They sat down at the table and were already stuffing their mouths with their sandwiches before Annie and Tilly could make it through the door. Annie hobbled to a chair and sat down, sighing with relief.

"Newt was just telling me about how he used to live with his friends, Ma. Bunch of them, out in the wild. Made up their own rules and everything."

Annie cast a glance at Newt, but he nodded at her reassuringly.

"Oh really?" Mary asked. "Bunch of teenage boys running amok without their parents? Sounds like a recipe for trouble to me. Tell me, was there a conch shell involved?"

"What?" Tyler asked, licking pickle juice off his fingers.

Mary laughed. "Nothing. I don't think you'd like that Tyler. Who would be there to feed you?"

"Frypan," he said between bites. "He was the cook."

"Frypan," she repeated, laughing again. "Very creative Newt."

She smiled at Newt and he returned it. He knew she thought he had made up the whole story to entertain her son, and he was fine with that. It was starting to seem like a story to him too after everything he had been through.

* * *

After lunch he and Tyler went back outside. The chores were done for the day, and Tyler wanted to go for a swim. He walked to the pond with Newt, and then began undressing down to his underwear.

"Come on Newt," he said as he stood at the water's edge. "The water feels great."

He jumped in, sending up a big splash that sprinkled the front of Newt's clothes.

Newt hesitated. It had been so long since he had just had fun that it seemed almost wrong to do so. For once in his life there was nothing to worry about, no schedules to stick to. He glanced at the water. It looked too cool and refreshing to resist, and soon he found himself undressing, and jumping in after his new friend.

They swam around for awhile, splashing each other and diving to the bottom of the pond. Annie and Tilly laughed at them as they walked by, on their way to see the chickens.

Newt noticed Tyler's face redden when he saw Annie, and he put his shoulders further under the water. Newt smiled. He remembered how he had felt shy around Teresa when she first showed up in the Glade; like he didn't know how to talk to her or act naturally around her. He was glad he had matured out of that awkward age.

"Come in!" Newt called out to her.

"I can't," she said. "My leg, remember?" She pointed at her ankle.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

He splashed in her direction and then dove under the water. Below the surface, the sounds of the world faded away. He opened his eyes. The sunlight was hitting the bottom of the pond, casting light and shadow upon its floor. A fish swam by and he watched it go on its way, oblivious to everything that had happened in the world above.

When he came back up, Annie and Tilly were gone. Him and Tyler got out of the water and they sprawled out on the bank, drying off in the hot sun.

"Those things you told me earlier … were those true, or did you make them up?" Tyler asked after awhile.

"What do you think?"

"I think if you made them up, you're whacked in the head. If they're true well … you'd be whacked in the head."

Newt laughed. "Maybe I am a little whacked in the head."

"Not just your head." He pointed at his chest. "What happened to you?"

"I'm … not really sure," he said. It was the truth. "Annie found me back in the city. I was almost dead, but she fixed me up. She told me I had been stabbed."

Tyler let out a low whistle. That morning it would have frightened him, but now he just thought it was cool.

"So is that how you two met?" He asked. "Or did you know her before?"

"We never met before then," he said. "But I knew her mum."

Tyler laced his fingers together and rested his head in his hands. "So now you two are just, what, travelin' the country?"

"We're on our way to meet some friends of mine."

"Frypan?" Tyler asked with a grin.

"Yes," Newt laughed. "My best mate Tommy too. He doesn't know I'm better now."

"Would be nice to have so many friends," Tyler said. "It gets boring out here. Don't get me wrong, I love Tilly. But … you're the first person around my age I've seen in months. I miss having people my age to talk to."

Sadness clouded his features, and Newt could feel his loneliness. He would have liked to have someone like Tyler around in the Glade. He was easy-going, funny, and handy with tools. _Builder_ , he thought. _Definitely_.

"And you've got her too," Tyler added, pointing in the direction of the house.

"Annie?" Newt laughed. "Sure, she's not so bad."

"Not so bad to look at either," Tyler said. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "I wish someone would stab me so I could meet a girl."

Newt began to laugh, and Tyler looked at him and laughed too.

Back at the house a bell rang, and Tyler stood up, pulling his t-shirt over his head.

"Time to help start dinner," he said. "Ma's making chicken and beans."

* * *

After a long day out in the hot sun, the simple dinner had tasted delicious. Annie helped Mary with the dishes while Frank helped Tilly take a bath. Newt was off taking his own bath, and Tyler had disappeared after the meal, going back outside by himself.

Annie thought Tyler had looked somewhat melancholy during the meal. Even though he had laughed at everyone's jokes and talked enthusiastically with Newt, there was something behind his eyes that showed his mind was somewhere else, off in his own world. _Then again_ , she thought, _he is a fourteen-year-old boy_.

"Where's Ty-Ty?"

Tilly walked into the kitchen, wearing a long nightgown. Her wet hair was behind her back, fashioned into two messy braids. "It's almost time for prayers."

"Tyler always reads to Tilly before she says her prayers," Mary explained to Annie.

"I don't know sweetheart," she said as she turned to her daughter. "I'll go look for him once I'm done with the dishes."

"I can go find him," Annie offered. She stood up and walked out the back door.

Outside she could hear a rhythmic noise coming from near the barn, and she headed toward the sound.

Tyler was standing just outside the barn doors, splitting wood. The ax gleamed in the light cast by a lantern hung behind him, and he wiped his sleeve across his sweaty forehead.

"Tyler," she called out.

He didn't respond. She called again. "Tyler!"

He gazed up at her, sweat dripping off his face. "What?"

She played with her watch, suddenly feeling awkward. She wished she had sent Newt instead. "Tilly wants you."

"I'm busy." He set another log down and steadied it on the stump.

"She wants you to read to her."

"Tell her I'll be in once I'm done." He swung the ax and the wood split in half with a satisfying crack.

"All right …" Annie turned around to go back to the house, but hesitated.

"Are you okay?" She asked, turning back to him.

"Fine." He threw the pieces onto a small pile.

"You just seem …"

"What?" He set the blade of the ax down on the stump and leaned on its handle, looking at her. "I seem what?"

"Angry." She put her hands in her pockets and cocked her head.

"Maybe I am," he said. "But it's none of your business. I thought you were going back to the house?" He grabbed another log from the pile.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'll go tell Tilly you'll be in soon."

She walked toward the house when his shaky voice spoke behind her.

"They have it," he said. "All of them."

She stopped walking and turned around to face him. "What?"

"The Flare." He picked up the ax again and set another piece of wood down. "Tilly too."

Annie looked at the house and then back at Tyler. "And you?" She asked.

He slammed the ax down. "Nope. My real parents must have been immune." He pointed at his chest, seeing her confusion. "Adopted."

"Tyler I'm -,"

"Don't say sorry," he said. "Don't you dare finish that sentence with sorry." He threw the ax on the ground and sat down on the stump, putting his face in his hands.

She approached him cautiously, moving closer until she stood next to him. She wanted to reach out, put her arm around him and tell him everything was going to be okay. But she knew that would be a lie. Instead, she told him the truth.

"My father had the Flare," she said.

He looked up at her, eyes glistening in the dim light. "What happened to him?"

"He left." She gestured at the stump, and he moved over to give her room. "It was the hardest day of my life, when he left. After that it was just me and my mom."

"Is your mom …?"

"A Crank?" She shook her head. "No. But she's not immune like me."

"Then you know," he said. "What it's like."

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I do."

They sat shoulder to shoulder in silence, looking up at the night sky.

"You know, Newt and I are going to a place for immunes. A lot of the people there are your age. You could come with us, if you want."

He shook his head. "My life's here. I can't leave Tilly. She needs me."

"So you're just going to stay here until …?"

"Until I can't," he finished.

"Oh, Tyler." He blurred in her vision as tears flooded her eyes.

"When the time comes, I'll go. Until then …"

Annie put her hand on his shoulder and he looked at her, chewing on his bottom lip. He looked so, so young.

"That's very selfless of you," she said. "You're a good big brother."

He sniffed and wiped at his face. "Do you have any siblings?"

"I don't," she said. "Just me. I never had anyone to be selfless for."

"What about him?" He pointed at the house. "He said you saved his life?"

"Yeah ..." She looked down at her feet. "Honestly, I don't think that was as selfless as you think. I was alone, and afraid, and he was the first person I came across on that dark night …" Her mind wandered back to that fateful night in the city, when her entire world had changed. "In a way, after everything we both had been through, I think I owed him."

"Well, whatever your reasons, I think he's glad you did it."

"Yeah?" Annie asked.

"Yeah. He said he likes your company. That you're 'not so bad'."

Annie laughed. "Coming from him, that's a compliment."

He laughed, and she stood up and held out her hand to him. "Come on, let's go back. You don't want to keep your sister waiting."

He took her hand and stood up, and Annie wrapped her arm around his shoulders. Together they walked side-by-side, back toward his family and the warm light of the house.

* * *

Inside, Mary was still in the kitchen, working on a bread starter for the next morning. Annie could see the back of Newt's head over the sofa in the living room, and she wandered in. As she got closer, she realized he was sitting next to Tilly, reading to her from an open book. Tilly was looking up at him with shining, admiring eyes.

 _"Well, I must go to Oz and get my heart," said the Woodman. So he walked into the Throne Room and knocked at the door._

 _"Come in," called Oz, and the Woodman entered and said, "I have come for my heart."_

 _"Very well," answered the little man. "But I shall have to cut a hole in your breast, so I can put your heart in the right place. I hope it won't hurt you."_

 _"Oh, no;" answered the Woodman. "I shall not feel it at all."_

 _So Oz brought a pair of tinners' shears and cut a small, square hole in the left side of the Tin Woodman's breast. Then, going to a chest of drawers, he took out a pretty heart, made entirely of silk and stuffed with strawdust._

 _"Isn't it a beauty?" he asked._

 _"It is, indeed!" replied the Woodman, who was greatly pleased. "But is it a kind heart?"_

 _"Oh, very!" answered Oz. He put the heart in the Woodman's breast and then replaced the square of tin, soldering it neatly together where it had been cut._

 _"There," said he; "now you have a heart that any man might be proud of. I'm sorry I had to put a patch on your breast, but it really couldn't be helped."_

 _"Never mind the patch," exclaimed the happy Woodman. "I am very grateful to you, and shall never forget your kindness."_

Tilly giggled with delight at the various voices Newt made for the characters. Annie smiled; the story sounded so pleasant in his accent she thought she might sit and listen for awhile.

He looked up. "All right?" He asked.

She nodded. Tyler walked past her and sat down on the sofa next to Tilly. Newt handed him the book, and Tilly snuggled up next to her brother as he took over the story.

 _"Don't speak of it," replied Oz._

 _Then the Tin Woodman went back to his friends, who wished him every joy on account of his good fortune._

Newt rose from his seat and went to stand next to Annie.

He nudged her and tilted his head toward Tilly. "She's a good kid."

"You're wonderful with her," Annie said. "You treat her like she's your own sister."

He shrugged, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he watched the pair.

"Just comes naturally, I guess."

* * *

Tilly had requested that Annie say her prayers with her that night. She entered her room, drying her hair on a towel. The bath had felt wonderful, and besides the smarting cuts on her leg, she almost felt like her old self again.

She sat down on Tilly's bed and smiled at her. "Ready to say your prayers so you can go to sleep?"

Tilly nodded and folded her hands in her lap.

"Will you start?" She asked. "Mama always starts."

Annie's eyes widened. "Uh … okay. Sure."

Tilly closed her eyes and bowed her head. Annie watched her, feeling her heart speed up.

She wasn't sure what to say. Her parents had taken her to church as a kid, but she had personally given up on God a long time ago. Her faith was in science and medicine now; if anything was going to cure the world and give hope back to families like Tilly's, it would be because of the work of brilliant minds. Not some fairy tale deity watching impassively from the sky.

"Our Father, who art in heaven …"

Her voice trailed off. She had forgotten the rest. Tilly squeezed her eyes together in concentration. She'd have to wing it.

"Dear God," she began. Her voice shook. "Thank you for the wonderful day we had today. Thank you for the kindness of this family, and their willingness to take us in. Thank you for the meals they provided us, and for ... for ..."

"For making Annie's leg better," Tilly said, taking over. "Thank you for Mama, and Papa, and Ty-Ty, and for Newt reading to me in his funny voice. Thank you that Mama got out the good canned fruit today, and thank you that I got to play dolls."

She paused, and Annie was about to say amen when she continued.

"God, I pray for Ty-Ty, that you can make him not sad anymore. Mama won't tell me why he cries at night, but you know why, and I pray you would make him happy again. I pray you can help me behave so I don't bug him and make him cry. Amen."

"Amen." Annie repeated.

She leaned over and gave Tilly a kiss on her forehead.

"Goodnight Tilly."

"Goodnight." She yawned and hugged a stuffed rabbit to her chest, and then turned over, burying her face in her pillow.

Annie got up and stood at the door, watching Tilly as she drifted off to sleep. She looked so tranquil, as if there was nothing in her little world that could hurt her.

 _I wish there really was an Oz_ , Annie thought. _Maybe then I could ask the Wizard for an unbreakable heart_.

* * *

It was two in the morning and the house was dark. Annie fumbled her way around the kitchen, trying, but failing, to reach a jar on a high shelf.

Someone cleared their throat behind her, and she jumped, almost knocking backward into the table.

"Can't sleep?"

Newt stood in the doorframe, arms crossed and hair sticking up in the back.

She put her hand to her chest as she tried to calm herself down. "Don't do that!"

He snickered. "I didn't know you were in here." He grabbed the jar off the shelf, handing it to her.

"Thanks," she said. "I can't do anything with this damn leg."

She filled the jar with water and stood with her back to the sink. "What are you doing up?"

"Tyler talks in his sleep." He sat down at the table and rubbed the side of his face. "By the way, I talked to Frank and Mary while you were taking a bath. Told them we'd be off in the morning. There's not much more she can do for your leg and we really have to be moving on."

Annie's face fell and tears sprung to her eyes. She knew they wouldn't have been able to stay at the farm forever, but did they have to leave so soon? Did they have to leave Tyler alone, after everything? What about Tilly? Who would she play dolls with? She had only known this family for a day, but it already made her heartsick to think about never seeing them again.

As if sensing her sadness in the dark, Newt said, "I'll miss them too."

"It's not just that." Annie wiped her eyes and sat down at the table across from Newt. "I talked to Tyler, Newt. He's -,"

"Immune," Newt said. "I know. He told me down by the pond."

Her eyes widened, but she was glad to have someone to talk to about it. "It's just harder to leave now, you know? To leave him behind."

"It's … a lot, for him to carry," Newt said. "I tried to get him to come with us but he wouldn't."

"Tilly," she said. "I talked to him too.

Newt nodded sadly. "I think he'd love it, but …"

"He loves her more," Annie finished.

They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Newt drummed his fingers absentmindedly on the table, and then shook his head, breaking himself from his reverie.

"Come on," he said. "We need some sleep."

They stood up and he walked with her back down the narrow hallway, shoulders bumping in the dark. Outside Tyler's door he stopped and turned to her.

"You know, I never thanked you, properly, for what you did for me."

She could just make out his eyes in the dark, two round reflections looking down at her.

"It was nothing," she said.

"I mean it. Without you, I'd never see my friends again. Seeing this family … it makes me miss them even more. What Tyler is going through … it makes me realize how important it is to tell the people around us we love them. Before it's too late."

"Soon." She put her hand on his arm. "You can tell them soon."

"Man, Thomas is going to klunk his pants when he sees me."

She could hear the smile in his voice, and she smiled too.

"Anyway," he said. "Goodnight."

She felt strong arms wrap around her and pull her into a hug. She let out a quiet cry of surprise at this show of affection, but wrapped her arms around his waist, and closed her eyes as she rested her face against his warmth. They stood together in the darkness of the hallway, both knowing come morning they would leave the magic of this place behind. Something about it changed people, made them better versions of themselves. She sniffled, and Newt tightened his arms around her.

"It'll be all right," he murmured, smoothing the back of her hair with his hand.

She could hear his heart through his shirt, each steady beat reminding her that without the other, neither of them would be here. They needed each other, more than they realized. She thought, perhaps, they might even be friends now. _He's your family now_ , Mary's voice echoed in her head. _Keep him close._

He pulled away and straightened up as he reached for the door handle. He missed and tried again. It opened with a creak and he entered the room quietly.

"Get some sleep Annie," he whispered. He closed the door, and Annie stood alone in the hallway.

She looked at the closed door and felt a strange emptiness within her. She could hear Newt getting into bed on the other side, and she shook her head and went down the hall to the spare room. She shut its door behind her and crawled into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin as she gazed at the ceiling. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and smiled.

* * *

"You sure you don't want to come with us?" Annie asked for the third time.

She stood outside the Jeep, holding Tyler's hands in hers. Tears filled her eyes, and she tried to give him a smile, but failed miserably.

"I'm sure." He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Maybe we'll cross paths again in the future. But for now, my life is here."

"I hope we do," she said. "A long, long time in the future," she added, looking past him at his family back on the porch.

Tilly stood with one arm around her mother's leg; with the other she held her stuffed rabbit to her face, its blue fur catching her tears as they fell. Mary kissed her fingers and waved at them, clutching the skirt of her apron. Frank had one arm wrapped around Mary's shoulders, and the other touching the top of Tilly's head. He gave them a brief nod.

"This is for you," Newt said, coming over to Tyler. He handed him a piece of paper.

Tyler opened it, and his brows furrowed. It was a map torn from one of their books, with a tiny island circled in black ink.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Where we're going. When the time comes ... I want you to find us. You can come meet Frypan."

Tyler looked up from the map. "So it was true?"

"All of it." Newt winked and then pulled Tyler into a hug and patted him on the back. "Take care of yourself, mate. Take care of Tilly."

"I will." He thumped Newt's back and pulled away.

Newt and Annie climbed into the Jeep, and Newt started the engine and put it into drive. He began to move slowly down the dirt lane and waved goodbye to the family he knew he'd probably never see again.

Annie waved enthusiastically and gave one last look at the farmhouse, then turned around in her seat.

"Think they'll be all right?" She asked.

"I think they'll do what we all do. Survive. But at least they have each other."

She looked down and fidgeted with her watch. "I'm glad we have each other," she said. "I'm glad I'm not alone."

Newt stared ahead at the road. For a moment he said nothing, and Annie rested her chin on the window frame, looking out over the countryside.

Then, a quiet, low voice spoke next to her. "Me too."

* * *

 **A/N: Book quotations are from _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_ by L. Frank Baum, first published in 1900. All books published before 1923 are in the public domain. All rights reserved.**


	5. Nightwatchmen

Annie's stomach growled. It was eight o'clock in the morning, and she had missed breakfast. She usually ate with her parents around six-thirty, before they started their day of work and she went off to class. Today they were called into a last-minute meeting and had forgotten to bring her any food.

She shuffled down the hallway, each step deepening the guilt within her. She wasn't supposed to go out on her own. They had never told her why, exactly, but still she knew it was a rule she wasn't supposed to break.

After several turns she found herself outside a door marked Cafeteria. Her hand hovered over the metal handles. So far she had done nothing warranting a punishment. Her stomach growled again, and she steeled her resolve. She would take whatever was coming her way for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

She pushed on the door and froze as soon as she entered. The cafeteria was full, but not with people like her parents or Dr. Leavitt and the others. Instead, it was full of children. Like her. Well, almost.

The room went silent. About fifteen boys turned their faces toward her as she stood there dumbfounded. They all looked to be about the same age, and they were all dressed in a similar fashion. It gave them a uniform appearance, despite the obvious differences in their ethnicity.

One boy, with dark hair and Asian features, nudged the boy next to him and nodded his head in her direction. She cast her eyes down and walked toward the stainless steel counter, hoping to grab a sandwich and leave before anyone tried to talk to her.

"Hello," someone said behind her.

She didn't turn around.

"Hello?" The boy tapped on her shoulder.

She didn't want him to think she was stupid, so she put on the bravest face she could and turned around. The boy – the one who had nudged his friend – looked at her and smirked.

"I haven't seen you here before," he said.

"I-I don't usually eat in here."

"No, I mean I haven't seen you at all. What's your name?"

His boldness surprised her. She looked up, meeting his eyes.

"Antoinette."

A thrill went through her. She had shared something about herself with this strange boy. It was probably another rule broken, but it felt good, even if it was something as innocuous as her name.

He nodded and smiled. "Nice. I'm Minho. So, what's your deal?"

"My deal?"

"Well, this is a change. Who's this?"

Another boy came up behind the first. He was the inverse image of Minho. Lanky and pale, with messy blonde hair.

"Antoinette," Minho answered. "I'm trying to find out why she's in here."

"Probably another test. What do you reckon they're up to now?" He spoke with an unusual accent.

She looked between the two of them nervously.

"I'm sorry, um, I just wanted a sandwich. I should go."

She turned to walk past them but the blonde boy grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"Hang on Antoinette. You didn't answer the question."

"I'm just getting some food. I missed breakfast."

"Why haven't we seen you before?"

She flicked her eyes down at his hand. "I really should go."

"Are you in Group B?"

"What?"

"Group B." He tightened his grip on her arm. "Do you know Lizzy - er, Sonya? Has she mentioned me? Has she mentioned Newt?"

She tilted her head. "Who? I'm sorry, I'm not supposed to be in here."

"Why not? Where did you come from? Where are you staying?"

"W-With my parents." He was making her nervous.

"Your parents?" He eyed her with curiosity. "You still live with your parents?"

"Yeah, don't you?"

He shook his head. "None of us do."

"None of you?" Her eyes widened.

He shook his head again. "No. So what makes you so special, Annie?"

"I-I'm not special."

"Sure you are. You're not in any groups. You still live with your parents. There's something different about you, and I want to know what."

Her head was starting to spin. What was this kid talking about? What groups?

Minho's eyes widened and the other kid – Newt – loosened his grip on her arm. They both took a step back and looked up at something behind her.

"Antoinette."

She knew that voice. It was her father. She turned around slowly, clutching the sandwich to her chest as her heart beat a mile a minute.

"What are you doing in here?"

He looked down at her with a blank face, but she could tell by his eyes he was angry. She said nothing, just held out the sandwich as an explanation. He took it out of her hand and set it back on the counter.

"You can go without lunch today young lady. Let's see what your mother has to say about you sneaking off."

He gave a curt nod to the others. "Boys."

He grabbed her by the wrist and guided her out of the room. She looked back at the two boys, just long enough to see them mouth "mother?" at each other before the doors closed behind her.

Outside the cafeteria, away from the new and exciting strangers, Annie felt dread build in her heart. He took her to her mother's office, pushed her inside, and closed the door behind them.

"Ava, I caught our daughter in the cafeteria. She was talking to two subjects from Group A."

"Subjects?" Annie looked up at her father. "Their names were Minho and Newt."

He shushed her. "Quiet! What do you think Ava?"

The woman stared down at her daughter from behind her desk. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight chignon, giving her a severe look, despite the faint smile on her lips.

"I think that was a bad girl Antoinette. You know you're not supposed to wander the halls without adult supervision."

Annie looked down, tears filling her eyes. "I know."

"So why did you do something you knew was wrong?"

"I was just looking for food. I didn't know … I didn't expect … Who were those boys?" She looked up at her mother, desperately wanting an answer.

"That's enough. Go into the hall and wait outside my door. I want to talk to your father alone."

Annie left and closed the door behind her. Ava stood up and leaned on the metal desktop. Her eyes narrowed in reproach at the man in front of her.

"How could you let this happen John Michael?"

He shrugged impatiently. "How am I supposed to keep my eyes on the girl all day long? I have my own work to do Ava."

"Part of that work is making sure our daughter doesn't interfere with what we're doing here. It was hard enough convincing Anderson to leave her out of the experiments. We cannot have any new variables outside of our control."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Take her to the lab. Get her prepped. I want this memory erased by morning."

XXXXX

"What the hell."

Annie's head shot up. She had fallen asleep, head resting uncomfortably against her seat belt. She worked out a kink in her neck as she looked up at the sky through the open roof. Cold white flakes fell onto her face, melting on contact with her skin. She felt warm air blowing out of the vents, buffering out the chill.

"When did this start?" She asked Newt.

"About ten minutes ago."

She squinted out the windshield as the wipers flicked back and forth at a rapid pace.

"It shouldn't be snowing this far south."

"It shouldn't, but …" He shrugged.

She looked outside her window, watching as the snow fell onto the lush green landscape that now surrounded their car. Gone was the dry, dusty desert of yesterday. They must have crossed a border while she was sleeping.

"We should put the top on," she said suddenly. "If this keeps up, we'll get sick."

"All right."

He turned the wheel and pulled over onto the side of the road. Before getting out, he grabbed his bag from the backseat and unzipped it. He pulled out a leather jacket, lined at the collar with cream-colored shearling.

He set it on her lap. "Put this on."

She looked down at the jacket and then back at him. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine. You can wear it. It's my fault for not letting you pack any winter coats. Not that I thought we'd need any ..."

She took it gratefully and shrugged into it. It smelled like dirt and sweat, but it was soft, and warm.

"Thanks."

He nodded and hopped out of the car, and she followed and met him at the back. They tugged on the soft topper, snapping and clipping it into place over the frame of the Jeep.

As soon as they had the last window zipped up, the snow stopped.

"What the …" Annie shielded her eyes and looked up at the sky.

"That's solar flares for you," Newt said bitterly. He waved his fist in the air as if there was someone up there watching. "Thanks WICKED!"

Annie laughed despite herself and got back into the car while Newt stayed outside and topped the gas tank off with what Frank had given them back at the farm. Annie pulled the map out of the glove compartment and spread it across the dashboard while she waited.

"Where are we?" She asked once he was back inside.

"Near the Gulf." He pointed at the map to show her. "Half a day and we'll be at the coast."

"Then what?"

"Then we find a boat." He strapped his seat belt back on and started the car. He turned the heat on and held his hands in front of a vent. "There, that's better."

Annie folded the map up and leaned against her seat. Even a half day seemed too long. She had grown tired of sitting in a car, especially one she never got to drive. Her legs and back were sore from being in the same position for so long. She would gladly welcome a change of scenery.

She grabbed a canvas bag sitting near her feet and pulled it onto her lap. It was full of provisions from Mary; snacks and basic medical supplies for the road. She opened a jar of dried fruit and gnawed on a strip until it softened in her mouth.

"Want some?"

Newt nodded, and she handed him a few pieces.

"That's good," he said after he tried a bite. He held out his hand for more.

"Do you think there will be fruit like this on the island?" She asked as she handed him some.

"I don't know," he said. "Never really thought about it. Maybe?"

"What do you think the island will be like?"

"I don't know … beachy?"

"I mean, will it be like the Glade was? Will people have jobs and stuff?"

He tore off a piece of the fruit and chewed it thoughtfully. "I don't know. Suppose so. It's what everyone knew before. I'm sure they'll go back to what's familiar."

Annie sat quietly. Something had been bothering her about Newt's plan, but she wasn't sure how to ask about it. She figured now was as good of a time as any.

"Hey Newt," she said timidly. "Do you think your friends … will they be okay with me?"

He looked over at her. "How do you mean?"

"You know …" She pointed at herself. "Property of WICKED."

"Oh." He frowned. He honestly hadn't given that a second thought since they had left the farm. "I uh … do you have to tell them?"

She frowned. "So that's a no."

"No, it's just … well, I think they'll be all right, yeah? They trust me, and I can vouch for you, and well … yeah. Probably?"

She rolled her eyes. "Your confidence is overwhelming Newt. Really, I feel touched."

He grinned and looked over at her. "It will be fine. Really."

She gave him a half-hearted smile and then suddenly threw her hands up, eyes wide with fear.

"Newt! Stop!" She gasped.

He turned his head forward. A coyote had stepped onto the road. It stood frozen in the middle, hovering over the yellow lines as it watched the oncoming car.

Newt slammed on the brakes. The animal ran off into the woods as the tires squealed. Except the Jeep didn't slow down.

It skidded to the left, heading toward a short metal guardrail. It was the only thing between them and a sharp drop-off, but they were going too fast. He jerked the wheel to the right.

He could hear branches snapping beneath the car, the sound of scraping metal, and Annie's screams next to him. He covered his face with his arms, and all went black.

* * *

Newt raised his head slowly. Glass fell out of his hair, rained down onto his lap and the surrounding seat. He felt like his brain had been squeezed in a vice and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What?" His voice sounded far away. He looked around, unsure where he was.

A deflated airbag hung in front of him. Behind it, the solid glass windshield had shattered into a spider-web pattern. A branch ran through it, hovering between his seat and Annie's.

He inhaled sharply and looked down. Two arms. Two legs. He was there. He was all right. Next to him someone coughed.

"Hey," he called out, voice hoarse. "Annie. Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"I … I don't think so."

He saw a shaky hand reach over and grip his wrist.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah … we gotta … I gotta get out of here."

His head was swimming. He unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door. He stumbled out, dropping to the soft ground below. Rain fell through the canopy of the trees, dripping onto his face as he looked at the Jeep.

They had smashed into a tree. The hood was pushed back into a mangled mess of steel; a white cloud rose from the engine as the rain fell onto it and sizzled into steam. The front wheel had been turned horizontal, its rim completely bent.

He could hear Annie trying her door, pulling on the handle over and over again.

"I'm stuck," she called out, voice laced with panic.

"Crawl out through my side," he said.

A moment later a head of blonde hair appeared through the door, and she fell to the ground next to him with a groan.

"We're alive," she said, panting as she lay on her back. "Holy shit we're alive."

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, grunting at the effort.

"Yeah, we're alive. No thanks to that bloody coyote. If I see him again, I'll be sure to run him over - twice."

She pointed at the Jeep. "Good luck with that."

"I know." He laid back down and groaned. "We're screwed."

She turned her head to look at him, and her pulse quickened.

"Hey, you're bleeding."

He squinted at her. "What?"

"Over your eye."

"Oh." He hadn't even felt it, but now the blood was trickling down his temple and he wiped it away. "Is it bad?"

"I don't know." She turned to her side and peered at the wound. "There's a piece of glass."

His face scrunched up. "Can you pull it out?"

"I think so."

She slowly sat up and leaned over him, putting her fingers under his chin and tilting his head back. She picked at the glass with one hand and tightened her grip on his face with the other as he winced.

"Almost got it. Hold still."

She pulled the piece of glass away and held it up for him to see before throwing it onto the ground.

He put his sleeve to his forehead, stymieing the flow. "Thanks."

"No problem." She looked around the forest, up through the trees. "What now?" She asked.

He let out a deep breath. "We walk."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yep." He pushed himself up to his knees, then grabbed onto the side of the Jeep for support and pulled himself the rest of the way up.

"Come on." He held out his hand to her. "Get your bag. I'll get the map."

She let him help her up and then pulled her backpack out of the car. She tightened the straps over her shoulders and eyed him.

"Do you know where we're heading?"

He looked at the map. "I think if we follow the road we'll be fine. Let's stay in the woods though; we can keep out of the rain."

He walked, stumbling as he continued to come-to. Annie followed behind, keeping a watchful eye on him in the darkening forest. The rain had grown louder and was falling freely through the trees, wetting their hair and soaking through their clothes. She zipped up Newt's jacket and tugged on the collar, trying to shield the worst of it from running down her neck.

The further they went, the more difficult the terrain became. The ground grew hilly and slick and the wind was picking up, causing the leaves to quiver around them angrily as it moved through the trees. They stepped carefully over fallen logs, dodged thick branches that reached out at them threateningly. Newt helped her over the more difficult bits, but it was slow going. With every step the ground let out a squelching, sucking sound under their feet as they trudged through the wet leaves and deepening mud.

"Bloody hell!"

Newt jumped. A crack of lightning pealed through the sky, lighting up the forest.

"You all right?" She asked.

He stopped and looked up, eyes crinkled against the rain falling onto his face.

"We should find shelter for the night," he said. "It's getting worse."

"Where?"

"I don't … hang on." Rain was dripping down his face, getting into his eyes and pooling on his chin. He wiped it away angrily. "Bloody can't see anything."

He took off his bag and set it on the forest floor. He pulled out a flashlight and turned it on, spinning around slowly as he shined it on the dense trees and undergrowth. He trained the beam of light on a spot off in the distance, and pointed.

"Over there."

She hovered next to him and squinted, trying to see where he was pointing. "What? What do you see?"

"I think there's an overhang."

He held the flashlight higher and walked in the beam's direction.

"Wait up!" Annie put her hands under the straps of her backpack and sloshed after him.

When she caught up to him, he was standing before a large rock formation. He shined his flashlight at it, illuminating a hollow space inside.

His leaned forward, lips parting. "It's a cave."

He stooped to enter, and the light of his flashlight faded away as he went further inside.

Annie paused at the entrance.

"You coming?" He called out.

She bit her lip, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "What … what if there are bears?"

Suddenly the light of the flashlight shined on her face, making her blink.

"There're no bears Annie."

"How do you know?" She asked. "You don't remember bears."

He held the light up to his face and shook his head. "Just come inside would you?"

She put a tentative step forward, then another, until she stood fully inside the cave. It was tall enough for them to move about upright, but wasn't very deep.

Newt shined the light over the stone walls. It was a simple space, and dry enough. A small pile of animal bones were gathered on one side, and he quickly moved his light away from them before Annie had the chance to see. Besides a few cobwebs and a faint musky smell, it seemed a decent place to spend the night.

"This'll do," he said, putting the flashlight into his belt loop.

"For sleeping?" She asked hesitantly.

"No, for taking a bath." He paused, but when she didn't say anything he said, "Yes, for sleeping."

She opened her mouth, but he held up his hand to stop her.

"Look, I'm sleeping in here so it's either in here with me, or out there alone. At least in here you'll be dry."

He set his bag down and unzipped several compartments.

"What are you looking for?" She asked, peering down at him.

"Something dry to wear. I'm soaked through."

She set her bag down and began to do the same. She pulled out a change of clothes and held them up to her chest.

He turned off the flashlight, giving them both privacy. In the dark she could hear him untying his boots; hear the wet leather being pulled off his feet.

She peeled off her wet items and lay them on the ground to dry. A flash of lightning illuminated the cave, and she caught an image of Newt pulling on a fresh shirt before it went dark again. She hurried and tugged on her pants and long-sleeved shirt.

"I'm good," she announced.

She heard a clicking noise, and artificial light once again filled the cave. Newt was sitting on the ground, arms resting on his knees as he looked around.

"Not very cheery, I'll admit. I'd build a fire but …" He gestured out the front of the cave. "Bit wet."

She sat down across from him. "So what do we do now?"

"Well, you can get some sleep if you want. I never could sleep during storms, so …" He reached into his bag and pulled out a knife. "Guess I'll entertain myself."

She recoiled. "What are you going to do with that?"

"Relax." He smiled and picked up a thick branch sitting near his feet.

He slid the knife across it, chipping off its outer bark and cutting into the fleshy wood below.

She leaned forward. "What are you doing?"

"Carving. We used to do this to pass time in the Glade."

"Really? What are you going to make with it?"

"Don't know yet."

She watched him work, slowly inching her way forward until her knees were almost touching his.

"Can you show me how to do that?"

He paused and looked up at her, thinking she must be joking. When he saw her curious expression, he waved a hand out.

"Sure. Find another piece of wood."

She stood up and walked around the perimeter of the cave. When she came to one section, she let out a shriek that echoed off the stone walls.

"Oh God, there are bones over here."

He grinned and continued to run the knife across the wood.

"Found one." She came back over and sat down next to him. "Do you have another knife?"

"No. But you can use mine." He handed it to her.

"What do I do?"

"Well, what do you want to make?"

Her face softened as she thought about Tilly, probably saying her prayers at that very moment.

"A rabbit."

"Okay." He scooted over and positioned the knife in her hand. "First you have to remove the bark."

She stripped some pieces off and looked up at him.

He nodded. "Good. Now, you'll want to shape the ears first."

"Like this?"

"No," he grabbed her hand and moved the blade in a different direction. "There."

He continued to instruct her until she had a figure in her hand that in the dim light could possibly pass for either a rabbit or a duck.

"There," she said as she held it out. "What do you think?"

"Not bad, for your first go."

"Here -," She handed it to him. "For you."

"Why for me?"

"In case I get eaten by a bear," she deadpanned. "I want you to tell my story, Newt."

He chuckled. "What story would that be?"

"I don't know. Make it good though. I expect to be primetime news for weeks."

"Weeks? Really? When there're Cranks and solar flares out there? What makes you so special, Annie?"

She froze. She suddenly felt very dizzy as if something had sucked all the oxygen out of the cave.

"What did you say?"

"I said what makes you so special?" He laughed uncertainly, not sure why she looked so spooked. "What's wrong? I was only joking."

"I know it's just …" She pursed her lips and stared at him. Her intensity made him uncomfortable, and he averted his gaze.

She shook her head slowly as if coming out of a dream. "Nevermind."

His brow furrowed. "You seem over-tired. It's been a long day. Maybe you should try to get some sleep."

"Yeah …" She eyed him for a moment longer but did not protest. She grabbed a strap on her backpack and pulled it over, putting it under her head as she laid down.

Newt turned off the flashlight and leaned against the wall, settling in to watch the storm outside. The floor of the cave shook as thunder rolled overhead. Annie tossed and turned nearby, letting out little sighs.

"Wow," she said after a minute. "This is not comfortable."

He held back a laugh. "You're pathetic Williams."

Something reached out and punched him in the leg.

"Ow!" He bent down and rubbed the spot. "All right, damn, not pathetic. I don't know why you're so bloody worried about bears; the bears should be worried about you."

After another hour of unrest, Annie finally fell asleep. The storm continued throughout the night, but she slept on, ignorant as the wind picked up and the thunder sounded every few minutes.

She dreamed that the cave had flooded with water, and she and Newt were floating on top, drifting on a banner. Below the surface she could see her apartment. It also had flooded with water, but a current came through and swept everything away – all the furniture, her belongings, even the ugly painting of dogs her mother adored so much. The front door opened, and her father came through, eyes trained on her as he swam through the water. He reached out and grabbed her ankle, yanking her below the surface.

She tried to scream for Newt, but underneath the water nothing would come out. Everything around her turned black, and she sank through nothingness. She was pulled through the door and fell out into a sterile hallway, filled with a bright fluorescent light.

The scene changed, and she stood dripping wet outside a door marked Cafeteria. There were voices coming from the other side, and she held up a shaking hand, heart pulsating in her ears. She was about to open it when a hand fell to her shoulder. She looked up, and saw her mother. She smiled down at her.

"Always remember sweetheart. WICKED is good."

It changed again, and she was sitting in a chair, hooked up to various tubes and monitors. She was watching herself on one screen, pulling the knife out of Newt's chest.

"That was a bad girl Antoinette," her mother said. "Why did you do something you knew was wrong?"

Annie pulled against the restraints, felt tears falling on her cheeks but could do nothing to wipe them away. Dr. Leavitt appeared at her side, holding a long needle. He plunged liquid out the end and smiled at her.

"No, stop. Stop! Stop it! Don't! Let me go!"

"Time to go to sleep Antoinette. Don't worry. This will feel just like dreaming. In the morning you won't remember a thing."

He injected the liquid into her arm, and she screamed.

"Annie. Hey. Annie! Wake up!"

Annie's eyes snapped open. Someone was leaning over her. She shot up and pushed out with her arms, knocking the figure back.

"Hey, watch it!"

"Newt?" She blinked, trying to make out the face in the dark.

"Yeah." He crawled back over to her. "You all right? You kept muttering."

"What?" She glanced around. It was still dark outside, but the storm had finally lessened to a gentle rain.

"Yeah, you kept saying 'WICKED is good'. Then you screamed like a buggin' Griever had stung you."

"I did?"

"Yeah," he laughed through his nose. "Got me worried for a minute there."

"Oh … sorry … I had a bad dream."

He leaned back. "Want to talk about it?"

She sat up and rubbed the side of her face. "I think it's gone now." She squeezed her eyes shut. She knew she had been back at the Canada office, but she couldn't remember what she had been doing there. Her shirt clung to her sweaty skin, and she shivered.

She opened her eyes again and looked at him. "Newt, do you ever … feel like your dreams are more than dreams, that they're …" She paused, scrunching up her face.

"That they're what?"

"I don't know, memories?"

"Memories?" He asked.

"Yeah, of your past. Your childhood. You know, things you can't remember during the day."

"There's a lot I can't remember," he said, voice tight. "At this point I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing."

She shook her head. "Nevermind. Whatever it was, I've forgotten it now."

She laid back down and closed her eyes, breathing in slowly to steady her heart. The air was heavy, and she wiped damp hair off her forehead.

Newt pushed himself away and leaned against the wall of the cave. His forehead creased as he looked at her outline nearby. The girl was strange. Sleeping peacefully one minute and then screaming her head off the next. And what was she going on about, lost memories? No one had ever played lab rat with her; her mother had seen to that.

He frowned. He missed his friends. He missed Tommy and Minho. Everything came so easily with them. There was such a history there. But with Annie, he had to take it one day at a time. Just when he thought he could trust her, she went on another tangent about WICKED being good and reminded him of why he could never get too close to her. It was frustrating, knowing she could probably tell him more about himself than anyone else he knew, and yet he still couldn't allow himself to believe anything that came out of her mouth. No matter how badly he wanted to.

He closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Morning came, and with it the sound of birds and a light breeze that floated through the cave, promising a nice day. Annie stretched and opened her eyes, surprised at how well she had slept. Forgotten was the dream, and she looked over at her companion with a smile. She was in a surprisingly cheerful mood.

He was leaning against the wall, head down and eyes closed. His folded arms rose and fell slowly against his stomach as he snored.

"Newt," she said.

His eyes fluttered open. "Huh? Oh. Morning." He yawned.

He looked exhausted, and she felt her heart twinge within her as she looked at his sorry state.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Sure." He groaned as he pushed off the wall and climbed to his feet. He wobbled, but steadied himself and pointed at her clothes.

"Come on, pack up your stuff. We can eat on the way."

She grabbed her items, which were now only slightly damp, and put them into her bag. She stood up and walked to the front of the cave, blinking at the brightness of the morning.

She cocked her head to the side.

"Hey. Listen."

Newt stood next to her. "What?"

"I think …" She smiled and took off, heading toward the edge of the forest. He hurried behind her, sliding to a stop at her side.

"Do you hear that?" She asked. "It's the ocean."

They stepped out of the trees and back onto the road. The storm had been so loud it had drowned out the sound of the water, but there it was, off in the distance, glittering in the early morning sun.

Newt shielded his eyes with his hand. "Looks like there's a port still. Maybe there's a boat!"

He felt excitement build within him. Now they were getting somewhere. Now he was one step closer to seeing Tommy and the others again. He forgot about Annie's middle of the night outburst and patted her on the back, smiling.

Side-by-side they continued down the road, heading in the direction of their ticket to the Safe Haven.

A few miles away, on the deck of a docked boat, a man pulled his eye away from his telescope. He looked to be in about his forties; grey streaks peppered his dark locks, and he had wrinkles forming around the corners of his eyes and creasing his forehead in thin lines. Still, he was handsome. He looked at his wife with twinkling eyes and gave her a lopsided smile that only added to the charm of his face.

"We have company."


	6. Fool's Paradise

Newt stood on the beach, arms spread out and pants rolled up to his knees as his eyes gazed out over the blue water. The salty air whipped his hair around and he sank further beneath the sand as the waves crashed onto the shore and swept over his feet.

Annie lounged nearby, eyes closed and face pointed up toward the sun. It warmed her skin, making her feel relaxed and refreshed, like a reset for her mind and body. She recalled Newt telling her they weren't going on a holiday to the sea, but this felt the closest to a holiday she had had in a long while.

"Fancy a swim?" He called out to her.

She opened one of her eyes. "Bad idea. Salt water and open wounds don't mix."

"Oh, right." He looked disappointed for a moment, then brightened. "Well, I'll just look at it then. It's still beautiful. Really shucking beautiful."

He turned back around and continued to watch the waves roll in and out. Somewhere out there, in the middle of the deep blue, were his friends. Frypan. Minho. Tommy. His heart pinged with excitement.

"You better watch out, Newt," Annie warned from behind him. "You look like you burn easy."

He tilted his head back and smiled. "Don't care."

She laughed. She suddenly felt a lightness within her, pleased at his easy-going attitude. If circumstances had been different, she suspected they might have even had an enjoyable day at the beach in each other's company.

"Want to walk to the port?" He asked as he walked over and shook his feet to release the wet sand.

She leaned back and rested her arms behind her head. "Oh, another five minutes."

He sat down next to her and stretched his legs out. He ran his hands through the warm sand, letting it fall through his fingers. He had never given much thought to beaches, but in a few days he would call one his home. He leaned back, smiling, and closed his eyes.

Five minutes turned into an hour, and after a short nap the two of them stood up, dusted off their clothes, and walked back up to the road.

The port was only a couple miles away, and in their excitement to get there and look for a boat, the journey went by quickly. Away from the ocean breeze the sun felt hot, and Annie pulled her hair up into a ponytail while Newt wiped sweat off his face with his sleeve.

The port itself was small. It wasn't attached to a city, but had a few abandoned stands nearby where people could rent water crafts or purchase swimwear. They passed a boarded up shaved ice trolley as they walked down the wooden boardwalk. The area looked like at one point it might have been able to house fifty boats, but now it was almost empty.

Still, there were a few harbored boats, mostly small and wind-powered. One speedboat was tied up, but it was rusted through and looked like it might sink any day. Near the end of the docks was a trawler in much better condition, and a few spots down from it buoyed a sleek white eighty-footer.

The large boat was named The Marilla, and it looked as if it had been taken out to sea recently. Fishing poles were still erected in their stands, and music drifted down to them from the deck. Newt moved in front of Annie, approaching the boat slowly as she followed behind.

"Ahoy!" Someone called out.

They both jumped.

A man appeared at the railing of the boat on the port side. He wore all white, except for a navy blue blazer and a sailor's cap with a gold emblem on it. A cigar hung out of his mouth, and he swirled a fancy-looking glass in his hand that contained a dark liquid.

"Uh, hello?" Newt responded.

"Welcome, weary travelers," the man said, "to The Marilla. Best ship on the seven seas though she's only been on one. I am Captain Monty. Who might you be?"

Newt looked back at Annie, tilting his head and questioning her with his eyes. Her mouth parted, dumbfounded, and she shrugged in response.

He turned back to the man. "I'm Newt, she's Annie."

"Pleasure to meet you, Newt and Annie!" He leaned forward on the railing, eyeing the cut on Newt's forehead and Annie's disheveled appearance. "You two kids look like you have a story to tell. Now, it just so happens I am a lover and purveyor of stories. You may have heard of me, Clark Montgomery?"

They both shook their heads.

"Sorry, no." Newt said.

His lopsided smile widened. "Oh no matter, my star burned before your time, surely. I was in the pictures kids, in the city of angels! At least, before the blasted solar flares hit, and all went to hell. Luckily, I'm immune to its ill-effects although most of my beloved city wasn't. I was forced out, you see. A regular witch hunt, except the witches were doing the hunting, if you catch my drift. Now I live with my Marilla."

"Your boat?" Newt asked.

"My wife!"

He put two fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle. A moment later a woman appeared, tall and tanned with flowing brown hair. She wore a sheer black kaftan that showed off her hourglass figure. Annie noticed Newt blush as he looked at her.

"Marilla, this is Newt and Miss Annie."

"How do you do," she said, with a voice like velvet.

"Snookums, they were just telling me their story – wait, no, we didn't get to that part yet, I got ahead of myself. Kids – tell me your story now, I want to know everything."

"We uh … uh …" Newt stammered.

"We're from Denver," Annie spoke up.

"Denver?" The corner of Clark's eyes creased with interest. "So far away from home! What are you doing all the way down here?"

Annie looked at Newt, who gave her an almost imperceptible nod to go on.

"Our city was overtaken, just like yours," she explained. "We had to leave. We came to the coast to find a boat."

Clark chewed on his cigar. "Is that right? Well, that does seem to be a familiar tale for many people. Tell me more. What did you do in Denver?

"I worked in medicine, a nurse basically, and Newt … he uh …" She paused. She wasn't sure how much to tell these strangers. But Clark was leaning forward with such rapt attention he looked like he might fall off the boat and into the water.

"Newt was injured," she continued. "I found him and took care of him. His friends left the country, looking for a safe place – a place for immunes, like us."

Clark's eyes brightened, and he leaned forward even further.

"We've been traveling together ever since," she said. "That's what we need the boat for; they're on an island in the Pacific."

He tapped his cigar on the railing, and the grey ash fell into the water below as he smiled in a self-satisfied way.

"Well, it must be your lucky day kids. Because it just so happens that Captain Monty has a boat you can use for your little ocean adventure. Free of charge."

Newt perked up. "You do?"

He nodded. "I do indeed. Problem is, I haven't been able to get the blasted thing started since we arrived. But -," he eyed Newt up and down and nodded satisfactorily. "With the help of this strapping young lad, I expect we can figure out what the problem is and get you two kids shipped out of here in a few days."

"That's generous and all but …" Newt looked at Annie and then back at the strange man. "Why exactly do you want to help us?"

"Because like I said, I love a good story Newt. Damn it, I really do. And your story has it all – drama, intrigue, danger – dare I say a little romance?" He looked between the two of them expectantly. They took a step away from each other, and Annie tugged awkwardly on the straps of her backpack.

"Very well then." He smiled knowingly. "All that's missing is a Good Samaritan to help you get over this pivotal moment, sort of a third act _Deus ex machina_ if you will. You can stay with me and Marilla if you like. We have extra rooms and never turn away interesting company, and you two do seem quite interesting. Besides, nearest city is overrun with those blasted beasts; won't do you any good to stay there. What do you say?"

Newt turned to Annie.

"What do you think?" He asked quietly.

"It's up to you. They're no Frank and Mary but they seem harmless enough and he wants to give us a boat. If there's no city to go to, I'd rather stay here than in the bone cave again."

His brow furrowed but he nodded. "All right."

Newt turned to Clark. "All right," he said again, louder. "Permission to come aboard?"

"Permission granted! Let me lower the ramp and you two kids can get yourselves situated."

A few minutes later a metal ramp stretched from the boat to the dock, and Newt and Annie walked up it and onto the deck.

"Welcome aboard!" Clark said as he enthusiastically shook their hands. "Make yourselves at home. The Marilla only has one rule – once you're on her, there are no rules." He winked and laughed jovially.

"Come darlings," Marilla said, waving the pair over with a well-manicured hand. "I'll give you the tour."

* * *

The boat was even larger than it appeared from the outside. Marilla sashayed her way around as she moved from room to room, showing them the amenities with mild disinterest as their eyes grew wider and wider. Besides the crew quarters, it housed a large galley with a fully stocked wet bar, a sunning area on the bow, a formal dining room, and a lounge with a television, record player, and oversized leather sectional.

She paused at the top of a flight of stairs. "Let me show you to your quarters darlings."

She went down, and Newt and Annie followed. Below deck were two extra cabins and a large bathroom, stocked with all the toiletries they could ever want.

"Come up to the deck when you're done unpacking. We'll have wine." She turned and walked back down the hallway.

"So, which room do you prefer?" Annie asked, peering through the doors.

He didn't respond. She looked at him and saw he was watching Marilla climb the stairs. She snapped her fingers in front of his face.

"Newt?"

"What? Oh, sorry."

"I asked which room you prefer – left or right?"

"Doesn't matter," he said. "I'll take right."

"Okay. Come to my room when you're done and we'll go up together."

They parted ways. Annie entered her room and immediately froze. They had decorated it in an old Hollywood theme, with rich, luxurious fabrics draping the bed and framing the windows. Golden statues rested in glass cases on the shelves, and she examined each one before reaching a vintage vanity. Its mirror was ringed with large light bulbs, and the table had a plush white chair pushed underneath.

She picked up a medium-sized silver frame, holding a black-and-white photograph of Marilla. She was smiling and smoking a cigarette, looking at someone off camera. Annie set it down and unpacked, folding her clothes neatly and stacking them on the chair. She hung Newt's jacket off the back and then picked up a soft boar bristle brush sitting on a silver tray on the table. She loosened her ponytail when a knock sounded on the door.

"Come in."

She saw the door open in the mirror and Newt poke his head in.

He gave a low whistle. "This is nice."

"Simply divine, darling," she teased, imitating Marilla. She ran the brush through her hair while Newt crossed the room behind her, settling on the edge of the bed.

He let out a noise of surprise as he suddenly tilted backward.

"Whoa!" He rolled toward the center of the bed, laughing. "What's going on?"

She put the hairbrush back on the table and came over. She plopped down, causing Newt to bounce up and down in the middle.

She laughed at his naivety. "It's a waterbed."

"What? That's a thing?"

She nodded and bounced a few more times, making him laugh. "You didn't have waterbeds in the maze?" She asked facetiously.

"We didn't even have _beds_. Us shanks slept in hammocks or sleeping bags."

"Well, looks like you chose the wrong room then."

He turned to his side and rested his head in his hand. "I'll swap you. Mine has pillows shaped like tiny boats."

"Fat chance." She leaned back and rested her head on a velvet pillow. "Looks like the Montgomery's are pretty famous." She pointed at the awards lining the walls.

"Yeah, they're also bloody weird."

"Well, you won't find any argument there. But, it's only for a few days. Clark will help you with the boat, and then we can get out of here. He seems nice enough, though a bit heavy on the drinks."

"A bit?" He cocked his brow at her. "Understatement Williams."

A knock sounded on the door again and they both sat up.

"Everyone decent?"

It was Clark. He entered and smiled at the pair.

"Ah, I see you're trying out the waterbed." He laughed. "Boy, do I have memories of … er, nevermind."

He looked at Newt. "I can take you to the boat now, if you'd like. Annie, Marilla is pouring drinks up top."

"Good that." Newt rolled to the edge of the bed and stood up. He turned around and reached out for Annie, helping her off the moving platform.

* * *

Annie went to the galley while Newt walked down the ramp with Clark. The vessel he had offered them was the trawler next to The Marilla. Its name was The Timmy Too, and Newt preferred it. It didn't have all the bells and whistles of The Marilla, but it was more his style.

"As you can see, she looks good, but the motor won't start and I can't figure out why," Clark explained as they stood aboard it. "It's too late to work on it now but we can come down here in the morning and really take a look at it."

"I reckon we'll be able to fix it up quick," Newt said as he looked it over. "Good thing; I'm anxious to see my friends again."

Clark looked at Newt with interest. "So what happened then, Newt? Why are your friends out there and you're here?"

Newt ran his hand through his hair. He didn't really want to relive the events with this man, but felt he owed it to him, regardless.

"I ran into some trouble and they had to go on without me," he said. "It wasn't their fault, but they're my mates; I have to find them." He looked out over the open water wistfully. "They don't even know I'm coming."

"Riveting," Clark said with awe. "No man is an island, you know; what a tearful reunion that will be. Boy, am I glad I ran into you two."

He patted Newt on the back and they climbed off the boat and walked down the dock to The Marilla.

Back aboard, Marilla and Annie were sitting around a table covered with a white cloth that blew lazily in the ocean breeze. They must have just missed Marilla saying something funny because Annie tipped her head back in laughter and then took another sip of wine. Marilla smiled coyly and swirled her glass.

"Come join us darling," she said as she patted the seat next to her.

"What do you say Newt – want to join the ladies?"

"Sure."

"Good chap. I'll ring for Luann. Have a seat."

Clark pushed a button and somewhere in the boat an alarm buzzed. A moment later a girl appeared, not much older than Newt and Annie.

"Luann, get me and Newt a whiskey on the rocks – from my private collection, none of that bottom shelf piss water."

She eyed the newcomers curiously but spoke only to Clark. "Yes, sir."

Newt looked at their host with surprise as Luann walked away. "There's other people here?" He asked.

"Just Luann," he said. "A good Captain always has a crew, no matter how small. Keeps things running smoothly. Luann's father was my AD – that's assistant director for you Denver folk. We go way back. In fact, the first time I met her -,"

"Enough talk about the help darling," Marilla interrupted. "No one cares, and it's terribly gauche."

"Right you are honey bun," Clark said, patting the back of her hand.

He turned to Annie and rested his chin in his hand.

"So, Miss Annie, you said you worked in the medical field?"

"Yes, I did."

"You look awfully young. How old are you?"

"Darling, a lady never tells her age," Marilla scolded.

"It's all right. I turned nineteen in April."

"Wow. I know the younger generations are quite bright, but isn't that a bit young to be working in medicine?"

"I uh …" She looked down at her glass. "I worked for a special corporation. They weren't opposed to bending the rules, at times."

He pulled a fresh cigar out of his pocket. "Would I have heard of it?"

"Probably," she said as he clipped the end off. "WICKED?"

He dropped the cigar on the table and stared at her. "You worked for WICKED?"

She glanced at Newt, hoping she wasn't sharing too much."Yes?"

"Well I'll be damned!" He slammed his hand down on the table. "Before I left Hollywood, I was working on a movie about WICKED. It was going to be my pièce de résistance. Had it all lined up – script was written, locations were scouted, the works."

"I was going to play Chancellor Ava Paige," Marilla said, taking a sip of her wine.

Newt's drink caught in his throat and he coughed, glancing at Annie with wide eyes.

"So what happened?" Annie asked, ignoring him.

"We got shut down. They must have heard what I was doing because suddenly the funding fell through and all the copies of my script disappeared. So there I was, last film to my name being 'Baby Takes a Holiday' - a studio cash grab that makes a mockery of my entire resume, blasted piece of trash …" He cleared his throat. "Anyway. It's not like I was going to paint them in a bad light, I just thought the whole ordeal was fascinating. We'd had films about the flares, but none about the company trying to sort the whole thing out."

"Yeah, they uh, they never liked people prying into their business." Annie said.

Clark turned to Newt. "So then did you work for WICKED too?"

"Um …" He tapped his fingers on his glass. "In a way."

"Well, isn't this just kismet, plain and simple?" Clark picked up the wine bottle and topped off Annie and Marilla's glasses. "This is a real honor. Sure, I have my professional issues with them, but what WICKED did for this country, looking for a cure when all hope was lost … it's just spectacular. Heaven knows I'm a sympathetic man, but the less of those … things, out there, the better."

"Have you ever run into one of them out here?" Newt asked.

"A few times. That's what my telescope is for. Not just for star gazing, no, sir. I watch through it, and if I see one coming toward the port – bam! – I take care of it before it gets here. Disgusting creatures."

Newt raised his eyebrows over his glass but said nothing.

Marilla coughed and everyone turned to look at her.

"Enough talk about that darling, you know how it raises your blood pressure," she chided.

"Sorry cookie."

"Newt," she said, changing the subject. "Your accent is just divine. Tell me, where were you born – London? Cambridge?" She stroked the edge of her wine glass as she gazed at him.

"London, yeah."

She tapped her chin with her long fingers. "I did some theatre in London, a long time ago. Perhaps you saw me sometime – I played the ineffable Lady Macbeth."

"No, I never was able to make it to the theatre much." He glanced at Annie, who hid a smile behind her glass.

"Pity," she said. "The London Times wrote that I was a revelation. A 'convincing display of the descent into madness – taut and rife with passion' it said."

Luann reappeared and set two glasses down on the table. Clark picked his up, and clinked it against Newt's.

"Cheers. To our new friends. May we soon become like old friends."

Newt smiled and picked his glass up, tipping it back to his mouth. He almost coughed, but managed to choke down the liquid. It burned as it traveled and spread a pleasant warmth throughout him as it finally settled in the pit of his stomach. He took another sip, which went down much easier.

They continued to drink their expensive libations and avoid talk of the flares until they felt warm and relaxed. Newt only understood about half the conversation going on around him, but Annie seemed to be enjoying herself, and that put him more at ease. He tuned them out, thinking about what he was going to do first on the island once they arrived. After awhile Marilla stood up and held out her hand to Clark.

"Let's retire darling, I really am quite sleepy."

Clark stood up and threw his napkin on the table. "It's been a pleasure," he said to his guests.

He gave Newt a firm handshake and Annie a kiss on the back of her hand and then waved his hand over the table.

"Don't clean up, Luann will take care of everything. Newt, we can go back to the boat after breakfast. Caviar and mimosas at nine. Goodnight you two." He gave them a wink and then strode off the deck with Marilla, hand-in-hand.

Once they left, Annie relaxed in her seat and swirled the wine around in her glass. She peered at Newt, wondering what he was thinking. He had gone silent awhile back, only nodding occasionally to acknowledge that he was still listening.

"You all right?" She asked.

"That was, uh, interesting," he said after a minute. "All that talk, about WICKED and the flare. Think he saw me coming through his telescope?"

She set her glass down and leaned forward, stretching her hands across the table. "Don't worry about it Newt. We'll be out of here in a few days and they'll be none the wiser. Besides, you've been fine, and they're immune anyway, so it doesn't matter."

"I suppose …" He swallowed the last of his drink and sat back. The sun was setting on the horizon, casting a golden glow on his pale face. "Do you want to go to bed?" He asked.

"Not yet. You go on without me. I'm going to stay up a little longer."

"All right. Come get me if you need anything." He reached out and squeezed her hands before standing up, then headed toward the stairs.

Annie poured another small glass of wine and stood up from the table. She was tired, but she also wanted to look through this famous telescope of Clark's. Ever since she was a young girl, she had been fascinated by stars. Probably because she spent most of her time holed up in WICKED's headquarters with limited access to the outdoor world. Books had been her best friends in those days, but there was a difference between reading about something and seeing it with your own eyes.

It stood nearby, shining in the night. She lowered one eye to the lens and closed the other. It was pointed at the road leading up to the docks, and she adjusted it until it focused on the constellations above.

The stars were coming out, and the cool breeze felt wonderful on her wine-flushed cheeks. She closed both eyes for a moment, relishing the way it felt to be in the lap of luxury once more. She felt like her old self again, and for a moment the world melted away and she was back in her apartment, standing on the balcony and looking up at the beautiful Denver sky.

But that was gone. Even if she felt like her old self, she could never go back to that life again. Her stomach dropped at this realization. So much had changed just over the span of a few days. Her thoughts turned to Newt, who was anxiously waiting to leave this place and reunite with his friends. A wave of guilt came over her; he had been forced to give up so much more than she ever would. She pushed the telescope away and turned around.

"Oh!"

Luann was standing near the table, cleaning up their glasses.

"Don't mind me," she said. "You can keep looking if you want."

"No, it's all right, I'm done." She stood there awkwardly for a moment, looking at the girl. "Uh, do you need any help?"

"I've got it."

"All right. I'm, uh, going to bed then." She walked toward the stairs and then paused.

"Luann, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she said as she emptied Clark's ashtray into a waste bin.

"Are Clark and Marilla ... are they okay people?"

She turned and looked at Annie. "How do you mean? Okay how?"

"Like, are they trustworthy?"

"I've known the Montgomery's since Hollywood," Luann said matter-of-factly. "Always kept my father employed, always treated me fairly. I have no ill to speak about them if that's what you mean. Sure, sometimes Mr. Montgomery is in the cups and Miss Marilla tends to watch herself in the mirror a bit too long. But when they left town a couple months ago, when everyone - including my own father - got sick, we came to this boat together. I'm grateful for those two, and I'd do anything for them. So, no, to answer your question - I have nothing ill to speak about them."

"Okay, sorry," Annie said, sensing her clear agitation at even being asked. "It's just been a … long journey, you know? We have a lot riding on their hospitality and I don't want to screw it up for my friend."

"Your friend will be fine," she said. "You get to bed now."

"Okay. Goodnight Luann."

"'Night."

Annie walked toward the staircase and disappeared below deck. Luann cleared the rest of the dishes, and then folded the white tablecloth into a neat square, holding it up to her stomach. She looked up at the stars and sighed.

* * *

Below deck Newt lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He felt exhausted, but also restless. He thought perhaps the whiskey had an adverse effect on him; more likely it was everything Clark had said about cranks – about _him_ – that was getting to him.

He knew it still lingered below the surface, but being reminded of it stung. He thought about what Annie had said, about how he'd been fine so far and it didn't really matter. But it did matter; it was a part of him whether he thought about it or not. He turned over, stuffing the pillow against his face.

He wondered for a moment what Annie was doing. If she was having trouble sleeping too. If so, maybe they could hang out in his room together for a bit, talk some more about Clark and Marilla, maybe sneak some whiskey from the Montgomery's collection. He liked the way it made him feel, sort of bold and reckless. It was the way he used to feel, in those first few months in the maze. That damned maze.

He heard the floor creak outside, and a knock came softly at the door.

"Come in."

The door opened slowly and his heart sank as he saw a head of brown hair came through.

"Marilla!" He pulled the sheets up over his bare chest.

"Just checking that you have everything you need."

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Okay, good." She entered the room further and began to run her fingers over his belongings. "Because if there's anything you need … anything … I'm just one floor up."

"Good that." His voice cracked.

"Well …" she gave him a tight-lipped smile. "I won't keep you. Sleep tight, darling. Don't let the monsters bite." She winked and then turned around and slinked out, closing the door gently behind her.

Once she was far enough down the hallway, he jumped up and locked his door. He laid back down, trying to rationalize her visit. Maybe she was just being friendly. Maybe she had had a little too much wine and was feeling restless too. He thought of Annie next door, and hoped she hadn't heard Marilla in his room. He suddenly shook his head – why did that matter?

He turned over, stuffing the pillow into a tight ball again, and squeezed his eyes shut. The gentle rocking of the boat slowly lured him out of reality and he drifted asleep, his last conscious thought being of the ocean, the beach, and his friend's familiar faces.


	7. Young And Beautiful

Annie awoke the next morning feeling worse for wear. Her head hurt, and the rocking of the boat caused her water bed to rock, which rocked the contents of her stomach. She remembered Clark had said breakfast was caviar and mimosas, and she groaned. What she wouldn't give for a piece of toast or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich right now.

Someone knocked on her door. She tried to sit up, but gave up in a pathetic fashion.

"Who is it?" She croaked.

"It's Newt."

"Just a minute." She pushed herself up and stumbled out of bed. She grabbed a silk robe that had been hanging in the closet and tied it on haphazardly. Opening the door, she peered out at Newt, whose brown eyes were bright and excited.

"Morning," he said, voice chipper. "Sleep well?"

Annie almost shut the door in his face but grumbled at him instead and sulked back to the bed. She fell onto it and buried her face in a velvet pillow.

"What time is it?" Came her muffled voice.

"Six a.m."

She turned over and stared at him. "But breakfast isn't until nine."

"I know." He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. "I want to get a head start on the boat."

"And you couldn't do that without waking me up?" She threw a pillow at him, which he dodged easily. "Come back in two hours."

Newt snickered at her sorry state but acquiesced and closed the door gently behind him. He was glad he had built up a tolerance on Frypan's sauce and hadn't had to suffer her fate.

He went up the stairs and found he was the only one awake. The sky was turning from a rosy pink to a light blue, and a cool breeze wafted across the deck and ruffled his hair. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. The ramp had been pulled in for the night, but he had watched Clark operate it the day before, and he repeated his motions. Soon it stretched from the boat to the dock and he walked down it, toward The Timmy Too.

It was quiet outside. The waves moved rhythmically against the dock, steadying his mind. He looked up with interest at the birds flying overhead. Every so often one would swoop down with lightning speed and dive into the water, coming back up with a tiny fish in its mouth. He was glad for a reprieve from Clark's constant talking and from Marilla. She seemed determined to make him as uncomfortable as possible, and he grimaced as he remembered her coming to his room last night uninvited.

He climbed aboard the boat and walked around its deck. He had the same impression as yesterday - it was nothing fancy, but it would suit their purposes well. He smiled and went to look at the engine.

It wasn't a large engine, and he looked over the various metal parts and tubing, pushing things this way and that to see if he could figure out what the problem was. He didn't know how, but he remembered what many of the parts were. Probably some subconscious knowledge he had learned before the maze. He tinkered for about an hour, continually wiping away sweat that beaded on his brow despite the cool morning air. He had just pulled a spark plug out with a torque wrench when he heard footsteps approaching on the deck outside.

"Good morning!"

It was Clark's voice. Newt frowned at this intrusion to his peace, but answered anyway. "I'm in here!"

Clark entered the room and looked at Newt and the progress he had made on the engine. He had a pipe lit, and the scent of cherries and vanilla filled the room.

"I see my intrepid explorer wanted to get a head start on seeing his friends."

"Hope that's all right," Newt said as he wiped his hand across his forehead, smearing grease in a thick black line.

"No trouble at all," Clark said. "The sooner I can get you out of here the better." He crouched down and looked closer at the work Newt had done.

"You're quite handy," he said with some surprise. "Have you done this before?"

"Not that I know of."

Clark eyed him curiously at this cryptic statement but did not ask any more about it.

"Think we need to replace the spark plugs and the filter," Newt said. "Shouldn't be hard, if you have the parts."

"I'm sure we have what we need on The Marilla." He stood up and breathed in through his pipe, the tobacco glowing a bright amber in the dim room. "How about we go back for breakfast and then we can take a look?"

"All right." Newt wiped his hands on his pants and stood up. He followed Clark back to the larger boat, where, same as yesterday, Annie was sitting at the table with Marilla.

She looked less peaky, but hadn't touched the food around her. Instead, she was ripping pieces off a bland-looking slice of toast and chewing on them slowly.

"Good morning darling," Marilla said to Clark. "Newt," she added.

"Newt is quite handy, jellybean," Clark said to Marilla as he kissed her cheek and then sat down. "Think we'll be done with the boat sooner than I thought ... isn't that a treat?" He eyed her as he tapped his pipe into the ashtray.

"That's wonderful news darling," she said. She put her hand on top of Clark's and looked at him with glowing eyes. "But first, Annie and I were just talking - you know what we haven't done in ages darling – had a dinner party. How about we all get together tonight, make it a real elegant affair? That way if the boat gets done early, we can have one _coup de grâce_ before they leave."

Newt's face fell. That sounded like a terrible idea to him, and the last thing he needed before trying to get the boat finished and out of this port town and away from these strange people. But he looked at Annie, whose eyes were lit up, and without meaning to he nodded in agreement.

"Great!" Marilla said. She stood up, pushing away her half-touched plate. "I'll go speak to Luann about the menu."

She disappeared before anyone could change their mind. Clark sipped slowly on his coffee - spiked with Irish whiskey - while Newt shoveled the food on his plate into his mouth. He was eager to finish and go look for the parts with Clark. Maybe if he got done in time, they could avoid the fancy dinner all together. He'd make it up to Annie somehow.

"Slow down boy," Clark chided. "You're a man, not a beast."

Newt wanted to roll his eyes but slowed down to appease his host. Annie looked over at him and winked, and he felt himself relax.

"You've really made Marilla's day by agreeing to this," Clark said. "She hasn't been the same since we left - it was parties every night of the week, and then nothing."

"I'm looking forward to it too," Annie said. "If there's anything we can do to help, let us know."

"Please," Clark said in an amused voice. "Marilla lives for this. She'll have everything done before you finish breakfast."

As if she had heard him talking about her, Marilla reappeared from the crew quarters, paper in hand.

"It's all set!" She said, waving the paper around. "I think you'll be pleased with the menu darlings, though I think I'll keep it a surprise. Annie, do you have something to wear for tonight?"

Annie narrowed her eyes at Newt teasingly, thinking about the items he had removed from her suitcase back at the apartment.

"No, I do not." She said.

"Oh no matter darling, I'm sure I have something for you. Oh, this will be a delight! Clark, you must look straightaway and see if you have something for Newt to wear."

"All right." Clark pushed away from the table and stood up.

"Wait!" Newt interjected. "We're supposed to look for parts?"

"Oh, right." He put the stem of his pipe back into his mouth. "Sorry Marilla. After we're done."

He waved a hand at Newt. "Come with me."

Satisfied that Clark would not get distracted again, Newt followed him. The storage room was past their bedrooms at the end of the hallway below deck. It was well-organized, but there were still dozens of containers on shelves they had to pore through. Eventually Newt found spark plugs sitting in the bottom of a plastic bin. Unfortunately, there were no filters small enough to fit the trawler engine, but he wasn't going to let it be a setback.

"I saw a rental shack on the way in, do you reckon they'd have one?" He asked Clark.

"No, they just have boogie boards and banana boats and the like. Nothing like what you're looking for."

He glanced at Clark. He didn't even want to ask what a 'banana boat' was. Probably something as stupid as a waterbed.

"There was a boat repair shop in town though, a few miles to the northwest," Clark said. "But I don't know if that would be safe."

Newt stood up. "When was the last time you went there?"

"Oh, before we came to The Marilla. It was just crawling with those … things." He shuddered. "Haven't had the heart to go back."

"I bet Annie and I could manage it," Newt said. "We could be back by dinner."

"That's very brave of you dear boy but I do not want you two taking that risk."

"The last few years of my life have been defined by taking risks," Newt said. "If you tell me how to get there, I think I'll take my chances. I need to get The Timmy Too fixed."

He felt bad sounding so impatient, but couldn't help the ache he felt inside himself to get out on the water as soon as possible. Clark's permission was not something he cared about at the moment.

"Hmm," Clark mused. "I can tell you're passionate about this. Who can blame you - it's a real hero's journey you're on."

He tapped his fingers on some metal tubing, considering. "Okay, how about this - you go, but Annie stays here?"

Newt jerked his head back in surprise. "What? Why?"

"Because it's dangerous out there for a girl of her constitution, and if I impede Marilla's plans I'll never hear the end of it."

Newt crossed his arms and gave Clark a wry smile. "No offense Clark, but I think she'd rather go with me than stay here and play dress up like some doll."

"Would she?" Clark asked. "A girl her age ... tell me, if you were her, would you rather go to a town full of bogey-men, or stay aboard a luxury ship and be pampered by an award-winning actress?"

"I think it's really up to her. And if I know Annie, she'll want to go with me."

"Nonsense," Clark said. "Women never know what they want, especially the pretty ones. Need a man to tell them what to do so they can keep their minds free to think about other things. Though in my experience, there's not much thinking going on in those little brains of theirs besides shoes, clothes, and money." He laughed. "But, no matter, we don't keep them around for the stimulating conversation, eh my boy?" He winked and nudged Newt in the side.

Newt's mouth fell open. He had never heard someone speak that way about women before. He had always had respect for Teresa, and Brenda. It made him angry to know Clark felt that way.

Clark must have taken his look to mean he agreed with him, because he patted him roughly on the back and said, "Good chap, I knew you'd see it my way."

Newt stared at him, and opened his mouth to protest, but Clark continued before he could.

"So you go then, and when you get back, I'll have a suit all laid out for you."

He pushed Newt gently out of the storage room and then walked upstairs, across the deck, and to the edge of the boat, lowering the ramp once more.

Newt stood back, eyebrows furrowed. He didn't think it was right to go without Annie, but somewhere inside a doubting voice nagged him that it _would_ be enjoyable for her to spend time with Marilla getting ready, especially after he had barred her from taking anything nice on their journey. He shook his head - Clark's persuasive attitude was getting to him, and it made him feel uneasy.

"Let me just grab some things and I'll go," Newt called out to Clark. "Just a minute."

He went below deck and into his room. Everything was just as he had left it, and he picked up his bag and loaded it with necessities. Few water bottles and a snack bar from the mini fridge, a handkerchief, his torch. He went next door to Annie's room and grabbed the gun from under her bed. Satisfied that he had everything he needed, he swung his bag onto his back.

Someone cleared their throat near the door.

"Going somewhere?"

He jumped. "Shit Annie, you scared me."

"Sorry." She came in and sat down on the bed. "What are you doing?"

"Going to town."

Her eyes widened. "What? But Clark said it was overrun with cranks …"

He snorted. "Don't worry about what Clark says."

"But it could be dangerous, Newt," she said, ignoring his flippant attitude. "One we can handle, maybe, what if there's more?"

"More than me, you mean?" He asked. "Or have you forgotten?"

Annie eyed him curiously. He wasn't acting like himself. He moved about in an agitated manner, avoiding her gaze.

"Are you all right?" She asked finally.

He stopped pacing and sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Sorry," he said. "I just don't like that guy. He's got klunk for brains."

"Oh." She looked down. Sure, Clark was eccentric, but she thought he was all right. She picked her bag up off the floor.

"So when are we leaving then?" She asked in a light tone, trying to break the tension.

He sighed again. "No _we_ Annie, just me."

"What?"

"You're supposed to stay here."

Her mouth parted. "Are you ... are you serious?"

"Clark doesn't think it's safe, and he said Marilla wants to help you get ready for dinner."

She got up from the bed. "And you agreed to this plan?"

He played with the hem of his shirt. "No, but ..." He went silent.

"Wow ..." She crossed the room until she stood in front of him. "I don't know what all he said to you Newt, or why you're in such a bad mood. But you're an idiot if you think I'd let you go anywhere without me. So shut it, and let me get my things."

He looked down at her, heart warming within him. When he saw her determined expression, he knew Clark had been wrong - about everything.

"Screw it," he said, grinning.

* * *

They went above deck, both wearing their backpacks. Clark eyed Newt with obvious irritation from the railing.

"We'll be back before dinner," Newt said as he walked past.

Clark grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"What are you doing?" He asked through his teeth. "I thought she wasn't going."

"Sorry," Newt said, pulling his arm out of his grip. "Guess she knew what she wanted."

Clark crossed his arms and puffed on his pipe while he watched the pair go back down the ramp and onto the docks.

The town wasn't far away. Clark's scribbled directions were hard to follow, but eventually they could find it using common markers he had described. They were met first by rundown houses, their pastel shakes faded so much by the sun they were almost all the same color. The road they lined led to an intersection, with an entire corner dedicated to a large sports pub. It had a sign outside advertising a Friday night trivia contest, with the grand prize being a new fishing rod. The pub was their landmark to take a right and head toward the woods. Newt felt himself relax as they continued on. If the town had been overrun before, it apparently wasn't now.

The woods were quiet, except for various critters scurrying about. A branch snapped to their left, and Newt reached behind his back, but stopped once he saw it was just a bird gathering twigs and dead leaves for a nest. Annie laughed nervously, shaken by the noise. She moved closer to Newt.

After a few minutes they passed through the last of the trees and came to a clearing with the boat repair shop sitting in the center. It was old and falling apart and overtaken on the outside by weeds. A faded wooden sign barely hung onto the overhang by one corner, and the door into the shop was missing its screens. They walked up the gravel path and pushed open the door which slammed back into its frame loudly once they were through.

Inside, a counter lined the back wall, topped with an old-fashioned cash register and glass jars filled with lures and wrapped candies. Supplies covered the walls and floor of the shop, ranging from yellow rain hats to large metal anchors. Newt walked around the room in one direction, looking through baskets and on shelves for a filter that would fit the small engine. Annie went the opposite way, looking at various trinkets with interest. There were statues of mermaids, old maps showing buried treasure, seashells from the deep. She tried to imagine what the person was like who had run the store. Probably an old man with a long beard and a yarn to spin about his time at sea.

"Got it!"

She set down an old compass that only pointed west and turned to Newt, who held up a filter triumphantly.

"Better take a few more," Annie said, shuddering as she picked up the jawbone of a shark. "Just in case."

He nodded and grabbed two extra, then took his backpack off, and zipped them inside. Satisfied he had what he needed, he went to the counter and dug his hand into a glass jar, pulling out some hard candies and pocketing them. He tossed one to Annie, who opened it and popped the watermelon-flavored treat into her mouth. They walked out of the store and went back through the woods, keeping their eyes peeled for other's but not feeling very bothered.

On the other side, Newt stopped and folded his arms over his chest, gazing at the pub and abandoned houses with a frown.

"Annie," he said, mouth making sucking noises on his candy.

"Yeah?" She stopped walking and turned to look at him.

"Don't you think it's weird there's no one here?" He asked. "I mean, I know Clark exaggerates, but I was expecting to run into _someone_."

She shrugged. "I don't know. People move on ... he did say it's been a few months."

"I was just thinking ... if I'd known the town was empty, I reckon I would have preferred to stay here. One of these houses must have beds and food."

She rolled her eyes. "You just want to get out of the party."

"No. Well I mean, yeah, but, that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean then?"

He frowned, not sure how to explain it to her without sounding paranoid.

"Nothing," he said. "Forget about it. I'm not sure what I meant." He turned back around and continued walking, Annie following near his side.

But try as he might, he couldn't get rid of the nagging feeling that something was _wrong_. That perhaps Clark had told them the town was overrun on purpose, just to get them to stay on his boat. But then why was he so worried about Annie going too if there was no real danger? He put the thought out of his mind and focused instead on the thing he was most afraid of.

His next trial.

A formal dinner with the Montgomery's.

* * *

Clark waited at the railing, smoking a cigar with narrowed eyes. He straightened with relief when he saw Newt and Annie coming down the dock.

"How was it?" He called out anxiously.

"Fine," Newt said as he climbed the ramp. "Nothing to worry about. It was actually quite deserted."

"Is that right?" Clark asked. "Well, it has been awhile since I've been there."

Marilla appeared, hurrying across the deck toward Annie. Her hair was up in rollers, and she had a full face of make-up on.

"You're back darling!" She said. "I simply couldn't wait to get ready, but now we can get ready together - come, quickly. There's not much time!"

She grabbed Annie's hand and pulled. Annie gave a quick glance back at Newt, but was dragged away before she could offer him any reassuring words.

"Come on Newt," Clark said. "Let's have a drink before we get ready - ladies always take forever."

Below deck Marilla shut the bedroom door and handed a glass of bubbling champagne to Annie.

"Cheers darling. Sip on this while I get something."

She went over to the closet and pulled out a black garment bag. She walked back to Annie slowly, smiling with anticipation.

"Open it."

Annie ran the zipper up, and her mouth parted in delight.

"It's gorgeous!"

She ran her fingers gently over the soft black fabric, looking at it longingly.

"It's Valentino, darling."

Marilla pulled the dress out of the bag and held it up to Annie's form.

"Oh, this will look simply marvelous on you."

Annie's eyes widened. "On me?"

Marilla nodded and pursed her lips into a smile. "Well not me darling, look at me, I'm simply plumped to the gills nowadays. No no, I wore this to my first awards show, before you were even born, you little thing."

Annie wanted to laugh. Marilla looked fine still - great, actually, but she would not argue when a designer dress was on the line. Marilla nudged her with the hanger, and she took it, holding it up admiringly.

"Get changed, and then we'll do something about your hair."

Annie did as she was told, stepping out of her blue jeans and pulling off her sweaty t-shirt. She reached for the dress when Marilla let out a startled cry.

"Darling, your leg!"

Annie looked down. "Oh ... right."

She had all but forgotten about the incident back at Redwick Creek. Mary's homemade medicine had soothed the wound more than any prescription could; she no longer lost any sleep over its sting.

"What happened? It looks positively ghastly."

"I uh, got attacked, by a crank. Back in a small town. I think it's healing nicely though." She turned her leg this way and that, looking at the scars that ran down it.

"A crank?" Marilla asked. "So you really are immune then."

"Of course I am," Annie said. "I already told you that, remember?"

Marilla clicked her tongue. "Can never be too careful these days, darling. I learned long ago in Hollywood that not everyone is who they say they are. No matter, put it on, I want to see."

Annie slipped into the dress and spun in a small circle. It felt like the height of luxury after days of wearing basic cotton t-shirts and hiking boots. Marilla nodded approvingly, and Annie looked at herself in the mirror while her host changed into her own dress.

Annie looked away for privacy's sake, but soon heard Marilla tug on the zipper and then let out a sigh.

"Darling, can you help me?"

Annie finished zipping her up the rest of the way. Marilla's dress was also black, but had more going on with an asymmetrical neckline and a white bow tied on one shoulder. Though she looked gorgeous in it, Annie preferred her own, and was glad everything turned out the way it had.

"Come." Marilla pointed at the vanity chair, and Annie obeyed, sitting down. Marilla picked up the boar bristle brush and ran it through Annie's hair. Both gazed in the illuminated mirror, and Marilla smiled at her nostalgically.

"You have such lovely features," she said. "Perfect cheekbones."

Annie felt her face go warm and saw her cheeks flush in the mirror. Marilla continued to comb through her hair until she had it styled in a pleasant fashion, simple but pretty. She pulled a delicate jeweled pin out of a tiny white drawer and pulled back one side of her hair, sticking it in place.

"There," she said, taking a step back. "You look ... well, you look like me in my prime darling. Heaven knows in this climate we cannot take care of ourselves like we used to. Pity. But we have to try, or else what's the point? At least I'll always have my films to remind me of what once was."

They continued to get ready; Marilla pulled the rollers out of her own hair and then applied make-up to Annie. After the mascara, blush, and lipstick were on, Marilla handed her a shoe box. Inside were black velvet pumps, and Annie slid them on while Marilla sat on the bed and strapped on towering white heels.

She stood up and walked gracefully back to the vanity. She put her arm around Annie and smiled.

"Heaven is missing two stars tonight darling."

* * *

Above deck, Clark was having a more difficult time getting Newt to wear the fine clothes he had picked out for him.

"I think this will do nicely," Clark said, unbuttoning a shirt and taking it off a wooden hanger. He held it out, ignoring the pile of shirts that Newt had already rejected. "It's Tom Ford."

Newt looked at it blankly. "Who?"

"Just put it on."

He half threw it at Newt, who turned around before taking off his own shirt, wary of Clark seeing his stitches and asking questions about what had happened to him. He pulled on the crisp white shirt and buttoned it up. When he turned back around, Clark was holding out a suit jacket.

Newt's eyes narrowed. "I need that too?"

Clark just stared at him, and Newt took that as his cue to not waste time arguing and just put it on.

Like the shirt, it fit perfectly.

"Where did all this come from?" Newt asked. "We're not the same size."

"Don't you know boy," Clark said, holding up expensive looking watches to his own wrist, "When you're as rich as I am you get everything sent to you for free. Some may say it's not fair, but I say once you can make a company sell out of bolo ties because you wore them to a business dinner _once_ , then you can call me."

Clark laughed and then grabbed a small box from his dresser, holding it out. "Open it."

Newt took the box and opened it slowly. It contained two small round objects, but he didn't know what they were.

"Worn by Mr. McQueen," Clark said. "King of cool."

Another name that Newt didn't recognize. He watched as Clark pulled the tiny items out of the box, and then he grabbed Newt's arms, putting them through the buttonholes on the cuffs.

"There," he said, standing back and looking Newt over. "What do you think my boy?"

Newt turned around and looked in the mirror. He wanted to frown, but kept up appearances for both their sakes. He didn't look like himself. He felt like an impostor, a fraud. He desperately wanted to put on his shirt sitting on the bed and go have a simple dinner back in town with Annie. _Annie_. He wondered how she was doing with Marilla.

"It's uh ... it's good."

Clark slapped him jovially on the back and went around the room, looking for matching shoes.

They went back onto the main deck once they were dressed. Newt knew it was shallow, and he would never admit it to anyone, but as they stood there waiting for Annie and Marilla, the anticipation of a night he had never experienced before was making even _him_ feel excited. He had never worn clothes so stylish and expensive in his life - that he could remember, at least. He assumed his parents, whoever they had been, hadn't been able to afford designer shirts and suit jackets and fancy leather shoes. He fidgeted with the cufflinks as Clark had called them and tried to ignore his heart speeding up in his chest. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and he stood a little straighter. Any second now.


	8. Meet Me in the Hallway

Annie and Marilla appeared at the top of the stairs, two elegant figures clothed in black standing against a red sky. Newt's eyes followed as they walked across the deck together, heels clicking on the wood floor. They came to a stop in front of the men.

The corners of Newt's mouth went up as he looked at Annie. She looked like herself, but different at the same time. Her blonde hair, usually pulled back, fell loosely over her shoulders, fastened on one side with an intricate looking pin. His eyes flicked between her face, and her dress, which hugged her body in a way he wasn't used to.

She gave him a shy smile, and something fluttered in his belly.

"Good evening," Marilla said warmly. "Shall we go in for dinner?"

Clark beamed and held out his arm. She wound hers through it, and he led her off the deck and toward the dining room.

"Shall we?" Newt asked in an exaggerated tone, holding out his arm for Annie.

"Of course, _darling_ ," she said, looping her arm through his.

They walked across the deck, the color in her cheeks deepening as she gazed up at him.

"You look nice," she said.

He flashed her a cheeky look. "It's Tom Ford."

She threw her head back and laughed, knowing he had no idea who that was or what he was saying.

He looked down at her and smiled, feeling his shoulders relax as he guided her toward the dining room. It was already better, having someone familiar around again. Perhaps the night wouldn't be a total disaster after all.

They entered the dining room. It was a long, rectangular space, covered floor to ceiling in wood paneling. A large table sat in the middle, overlaid with a white tablecloth and emerald green runner. Every few feet were cream-colored candles, illuminating the dark room with their soft golden glow.

Newt observed Clark pull out a chair for Marilla, and he imitated the gesture, helping Annie into her seat before sitting down next to her.

He placed his hands flat on the table and looked down at the spread before him. There were multiple wine glasses, and at least four different forks. He set a thick white napkin in his lap and tried to calm his nerves, reminding himself that whether he acted with perfect propriety or not really didn't matter. He had no one to impress. After tomorrow, he would never have to see the Montgomery's again.

Luann appeared from seemingly out of nowhere and held out a bottle of wine to Clark. He scanned the label and nodded his approval. She took it over to a cart, removed the foil, uncorked it with a satisfying _pop_ , and poured four glasses.

After she passed them out, Clark raised his glass and smiled at the group.

"To youth. To beauty. To love."

"Cheers," everyone replied in unison.

* * *

Shortly after the toast the first course arrived. It was a gazpacho, and the three ate it with obvious enjoyment while Newt ran his spoon through the chunky liquid. He had never had cold soup on purpose before. Annie nudged his elbow and nodded her head at his bowl. He took a few bites to appease her; the flavor wasn't bad, but he still preferred Frypan's stew.

"I'm glad we all could do this," Clark said between bites. "Heaven knows I adore you Marilla, but sometimes I get lonely on this big boat all by ourselves."

"Likewise darling," she said. She looked across the table at the guests. "It has given us a renewed vigor to have you two aboard."

"We appreciate your hospitality," Annie said, smiling at Marilla before she took a bite of soup. She swallowed, and then asked, "Tell me, has it always just been the three of you? Or did you have friends who left the city too?"

"A few were able to escape," Clark said. "But we all went our separate ways. Some up to Canada. One good chap went down to Tijuana. Luann is the only one who came with us."

As if summoned by this statement, Luann appeared again to clear away their bowls. She replaced them with a grilled Caesar salad, which smelled strongly of anchovies and garlic.

"And you darling?" Marilla asked. "Surely you're not the only two to come out of Denver."

"I'm sure there were more; it was a big city. But, I mostly kept to myself. There wasn't really ... time ... for friends, working at WICKED." She looked down and stabbed pieces of romaine with her fork. "There was one girl I was friendly with, professionally - Teresa - but I haven't talked to her."

She glanced at Newt, whose fork hovered over his plate.

"You know, I was hoping you would bring WICKED up," Clark said, pushing his empty plate away. "I'd like it if you could tell me more about it. I still haven't given up hope for my movie, you see, and once those things die out and the blasted weather goes back to normal, I'd like to give it another go."

"There's not much to tell," Annie said.

Luann came around the table and removed their salad plates. In their place she set down plates of seared fish sauteed in a lemon butter sauce, roasted dilled potatoes, and broccolini covered with shaved white truffles.

"Oh, surely you have a story or two," he said. "What were they like, behind the scenes? Were they as mysterious as they seem?"

"It was, uh, normal for me. I'm sure from the outside they appeared mysterious, but to me ... they were like family."

"What about you Newt?" He asked, popping potatoes into his mouth. "Any shady dealings going on behind the scenes? Strange experiments, things too macabre to tell?"

"I can honestly say Clark," Newt said, voice steady. "That they kept me in the dark, about everything."

Clark made a disappointed noise, and sat back in his chair while Marilla took over, complimenting the party on their attire and discussing once again her time in London. Soon Luann removed their main courses and set down white ramekins filled with creme brulee, each topped with mint and candied orange slices.

Newt tapped the caramelized crust with his spoon, breaking through to the custard below. He took a bite, and his eyes shut for just a moment. It was one of the most delicious things he had ever tasted. He finished it quickly, scraping the edges of the bowl while the others ate theirs at a more leisurely pace.

"But surely," Clark began again, interrupting Marilla reciting lines from Macbeth. "In looking for a cure they had to cut some legal corners. Annie, if you worked in the medical department, you must have seen them experimenting on some of those people who were infected."

"You're talking like it was some sort of science fiction story Clark," Annie said, spooning the dessert into her mouth. "I can assure you, it was all very clinical."

"So you don't deny it," he said, smiling. "Like I said - mysterious." He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a cigar.

"Oh, not in here darling," Marilla said. "Wait until after."

He put it back in his pocket and wrapped his arm around the back of his chair.

"You know, I heard a rumor once they were experimenting on children. Ripping them away from their families, having them do all sorts of tests. Sort of like the Montauk Project in the northeast. Did you ever see anything like that?"

"You said it yourself - rumors." Annie said.

"But surely you must have seen _something_. Come on, what's the harm in a little pillow talk amongst friends?"

"No. And if what they were doing was as terrible as you say, I'd rather not speculate on it. Can we please change the subject?"

"But -,"

Newt slammed his glass down.

"She said she wants to change the subject."

Red wine seeped into the white tablecloth as he gave Clark a hard look. He didn't want to talk about it any more than Annie did. The dessert which he had finished with relish now sat heavy in his stomach.

"All right, sorry my boy. I meant no offense, I just have to start from the ground up after everything was destroyed. You know how it is."

Newt nodded, and unclenched his hand, which had been balled into a tight fist under the table. He fingered the nail marks in his palm, wondering where his sudden outburst had come from.

"How about we forget all this talk and retire to the lounge?" Marilla suggested. She looked around the table cautiously. "I think we all could use a nightcap."

"Wonderful idea biscuit." Clark pushed away from the table and stood up, already pulling the cigar out of his pocket again. "Newt, Annie?"

"We'll meet you there in a minute," Newt said.

Clark eyed the pair curiously but put his hand on Marilla's back and ushered her out of the dining room.

Once they left, Newt turned in his seat to face Annie. He looked at her intently, fingers drumming on the table.

"I want to leave," he blurted out. "Tonight."

"What? Why?"

"Because I don't like these people Annie." He sighed and threw his napkin on the table. "They ask too many questions. And we're just ... we're so close."

"Close to what?"

"To being with my friends again."

"Oh." She reached out and fidgeted with his napkin.

"I know," she said. "It's just been so crazy the past few days. It's been nice to have a distraction."

"I don't want a distraction," he said. "I just want to be with them."

Annie's hands went still as she looked at him. Something about that statement disappointed her, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

"You'll be with them soon," she offered.

"I know. I just ... I feel ..." He reached out and took her hand in his. He looked down at the floor and began absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

"Yes?" She asked after a moment, when he didn't continue.

He looked up at her, a deep line creasing his brow.

"I feel like the serum is wearing off."

Her heart sank like a stone. "What?"

He dropped her hand and leaned back, rubbing the side of his face slowly.

"I've been ... I feel different, you know? Sort of ... less patient. More paranoid. I can't stop thinking about my friends, and it hurts - it actually, physically hurts - knowing they're so close, and the only thing stopping me is this damn party and Clark and Marilla with their bloody weird ... everything. And any time someone mentions WICKED, it feels like ... like ..." He groaned and laid his head on the table.

She reached her hand out, but let it fall to her lap instead.

"Listen Newt," she said. "Don't focus on that. It will only make it worse. We knew the serum wouldn't last forever, but that doesn't mean you're going to turn back into ... you know ... tomorrow or anything. You will have the boat ready in the morning, and then we can go to the island. You can get to Thomas."

He peered up at her from the table. "But what if it's not soon enough?" He asked. "What if I don't make it back to my friends in time? What if I suddenly lose control and hurt people? Hurt you?"

"That's a lot of what ifs."

He lifted his head and rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. I just ... I can't ... I already lost everything once. I don't think I could bear it a second time."

"I know. I understand. But we have to be smart about this Newt. Going off in the ocean in the middle of the night isn't going to help anything. It isn't _safe_. So let's go to the lounge, just for a bit. Take your mind off things, and then we can go to bed, and in the morning it will be a new day."

He sighed, contemplating, and then nodded his head.

"Okay," he said. "Fine."

He pushed back his chair and stood up, taking off his jacket and throwing it over his shoulder while Annie got up and walked to the door. The cool night air tempered their spirits as they walked across the deck, and Newt held the lounge door open while Annie passed under his arm.

It was the room they had seen on their tour with Marilla. A large leather sectional lined one wall, flanked on either side by leather chairs. Clark was sitting in one, leg crossed over his knee, lighting his cigar. Marilla swayed in front of him, dancing to big band music coming from the record player.

Across from the couch, the fireplace was lit, although the room itself wasn't cold. It cast light and shadows over the room, making it feel smaller than it was. Above the fireplace was the stuffed head of a moose, and under it were two crossed oars, signed all over in black ink.

"Welcome back darlings," Marilla said. She took Annie's hand in hers and spun her in a slow circle. "Did you have a nice _tête-à-tête_?"

"Yes, but we missed your company," Annie said, trying to make everyone feel at ease again.

"All right my boy?" Clark asked Newt in a tone that implied he really did not care one way or the other.

"Just needed some fresh air," he said, sitting down in the other chair.

Annie untangled herself from Marilla and walked over, finding a spot on the couch.

Alone now, Marilla pouted, but went to a small bar cart and poured three drinks. Her hips swayed as she crossed the room, and she handed two of the glasses to Newt and Annie.

"You must catch up darlings," she said. "I'm on my second!"

"Third," Clark corrected from his seat. "And that should be your last one, bonbon, or else I'll have to carry you to bed."

Marilla laughed, a rich, vibrant sound, and moved provocatively back toward her husband. She sat down on his lap, and kissed the side of his face, moving down his neck, and playing with the buttons on the front of his shirt.

"Is that a promise?" She purred.

She ran her hand under his shirt, and he choked on his cigar smoke.

Newt looked down into his glass, trying his best to ignore them as he chugged the contents. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Annie do the same.

"I think," Clark said, stamping out his cigar, "That it's closing time for us."

He pulled Marilla's hand out of his shirt and then scooped her up, lifting her into the air. She let out an exuberant shriek and continued to kiss his face.

"You'll forgive me for bowing out so early," he said, giving them an apologetic look. "My lady doesn't know how to hold her liquor. You kids can stay up as late as you want. We'll see you in the morning."

"Have fun, darlings!" Marilla said as Clark carried her out of the lounge. The sound of her laugh faded in the night as he headed toward their room.

"Thank God," Annie said, standing up and going to the cart to refill her glass. "I thought they were about to just do it right in front of us."

She looked through the bottles and stopped when she came to a fancy-looking decanter with a homemade label on it.

"Look at this," she said, holding it up. "Marilla's Mix. I bet this is what she was drinking." She opened the top and sniffed. It smelled like whiskey mixed with vanilla beans and something else vaguely familiar. She shrugged and poured it into her glass.

Newt got up and turned down the fireplace, then opened a small round window.

"I never want to smell cigars again," he said, breathing in the fresh air. "Bloody disgusting habit."

Annie nodded and then went to the record player, picking up the needle and removing the current selection. She opened the glass cabinet that housed their collection and thumbed through the cardboard covers.

"Wow," she said after a moment. "They have everything."

She took a sip of her drink and then let out a delighted sound.

"Newt, look!"

She held up an album that had a man smashing a guitar on the front.

"What is it?" He asked, squinting from across the room.

"It's The Clash!"

She set her drink down and excitedly pulled the record out of its sleeve and set it on the turntable. She put the needle down gently, pushed play, and took a step back. A moment later, loud guitar and drums came through the speakers, filling the room with its raucous noise. She turned around, smiling.

"What do you think?"

He rolled up his sleeves as he cocked his ear toward the music. After a moment he smiled.

"You were right. I like it."

"Well, don't just stand there!"

She picked up her drink and crossed the room, holding out her hand to him.

He laughed at her. "I don't think so."

"Oh, come on," she said. "One more distraction won't hurt you. Besides, you can't be any worse than me."

He reluctantly put his hand in hers and allowed her to pull him away from the window. She spun him in a circle, and then moved around the room, shaking her head back and forth in time to the music.

He stood back and watched her with an amused expression, tapping his hand against his leg to the beat.

After two songs she collapsed onto the leather couch, breathing heavy.

"Oh, I'm dizzy," she moaned.

"You're drunk," he said, laughing as he set his drink down and picked up his jacket. "Enough of this, we should sleep. Big day tomorrow, remember?"

She peered up at him from her spot on the couch, looking disappointed.

"I'm not a very good distraction, am I?"

"You're a wonderful distraction Annie," he said as he went over to her. "But a bloody terrible dancer. And a lightweight to boot."

She stuck her tongue out and pushed herself up from the couch. She swayed as she stood, and he held out a hand for her. She waved it away as she took a step, but then knocked into the table, pitching forward.

"Bloody -!" He instinctively moved forward and grabbed her waist, steadying her. "You all right?"

She looked up at him, face flushed. "Fine, thanks," she said breathlessly.

"No problem." He released his hand and took a step back.

"Saved me again." She gave a shaky laugh. "Guess it's your turn next."

She turned away and went around the room, embarrassed by how much more her drink had affected her than it had Newt. She removed the needle from the record and turned off the player, then picked up her shoes and straightened her dress.

Newt pushed a button on the remote and turned off the fireplace, then went to the window and shut it. The room filled with darkness, and the sudden silence rang in his ears.

He could just make out Annie's figure staggering toward the door. She opened it and stood in the frame, silhouette outlined by the silver light of the moon.

"Coming?" She asked.

He followed her out of the lounge and walked with her across the deck, and then down the stairs. His hand hovered near her elbow, just in case she stumbled again.

They made it below deck without incident, and he carefully walked her to her room. Instead of going inside, she stopped, and pressed her back against the cool wooden door.

"So," she said. "Was it as bad as you thought?"

"The dinner wasn't great," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "But the lounge was all right."

"Yeah ..." She said. "It was fun. I'm glad you were there - _are_ \- here."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said. "Clark ... he reminded me that I never really had any friends, back in Denver. Besides my mom, really. Sometimes I wonder ... I wonder if that's why I stopped that night, you know? Maybe I was lonely. And being with you ... a stranger ... was better than being alone."

He gave a slight nod of understanding and she went on.

"But you weren't really a stranger, were you?" She looked up at him with furrowed eyes. "There was something familiar about you ... I felt like I _knew_ you, you know?" Her words ran together, slurring the more she tried to concentrate on what she was saying.

"Even as you ... as you _were_ ... there was something safe, and familiar about you. Do you ... do you understand? Do you ever feel like that?"

He looked down at her and gave her a sympathetic smile. He wanted to tell her he had felt that way before, but in all honesty, his first memory of her would always be waking up in her living room and smelling those eggs.

"I think," he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "That if I knew you before, I'd definitely remember you."

She looked up at him with soft eyes, and his heart pounded an extra beat in his chest.

"We should get some sleep," he said suddenly, dropping his hand to his side.

"No, wait," she said, straightening against the door. "I have something to say first."

He folded his arms and looked down at her, eyebrows raised.

"It's about ... what you said earlier."

She put her hand out, resting it on his forearm. He glanced down at it and stiffened.

"Listen to me," she said, a newfound urgency taking over her countenance.

"You're not going to lose anything Newt. Because I'm not going to let it happen. One way or another, you're getting on that boat tomorrow and going to the Safe Haven. We're going to finish what we started. I want - I _need_ \- you to trust me."

She stared up at him, desperately searching for a glimmer of hope within him. He let out a deep breath, face softening as he looked at her. She was so earnest; he felt she could have asked him for anything and he would have said yes.

Perhaps, she was the most dangerous one on this boat.

"I do trust you," he said softly.

He unfolded his arms and slowly leaned in toward her. She could feel warmth radiating off him, smell the spicy, sweet scent of rum on his breath. Her heart beat rapidly as he swam in her vision, face inches away from hers.

She gave a soft gasp as she felt the door open behind her and looked down to see his hand clutching the handle.

"Goodnight Annie."

He pushed the door the rest of the way open and then straightened, dropping his hand to his side.

"Get some sleep."

She stared up at him, mouth slightly parted, but said nothing. She went into the dark room and then turned around just in time to see him close the door behind her. She stared at it for a moment as her heart slowed down within her, mind too muddled with drink to figure out what had just happened, or why she suddenly felt such a rush of disappointment. The coldness of the empty room set in, and she shivered.

 _"Baby, baby, won't you hear my plea?"_

She sang as she undressed, putting the shoes back in their box and hanging the dress up in the small closet. She sat down at the vanity, rubbing her make-up off with a soaked cotton pad.

She blinked slowly at her reflection. She looked like herself again, and yet she felt that inside of her something had changed. She shivered again and stood up, going to her bed and crawling under the satin sheets.

She closed her eyes, waiting for sleep, and the new day.

 _"C'mon sugar, just come on back to me."_

* * *

Next door, Newt undid the buttons on his shirt and pulled it off, setting it on the wooden dresser. He went to the mirror, and touched the stitches on his chest, tracing his fingers over the skin that had darkened with veins once more. He sighed, and went to his bed, flopping onto it.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep before the busy day tomorrow, but his body would not obey his mind. He was wound up, energized, with a new longing in his heart, different from the one he felt when he thought about his friends. One he couldn't quite understand or felt before.

"Aspirin!" He said suddenly, eyes popping open. In the morning, Annie would need Aspirin. He pulled back his covers and threw a t-shirt on. He crossed the hall to the bathroom and searched through the cabinets and drawers. He could find six different scents of hand lotion, but no medicine.

Not wanting to give up, he went up the stairs, climbing them two at a time, and headed toward the bridge. He was certain there would be a first aid kit in there somewhere.

He was about to go through the doors when he heard someone giggle on the other side.

"Stop it!"

It was a woman. But it wasn't Marilla, and definitely not Annie. He thought perhaps the person was in trouble and was about to go in when he heard a masculine laugh.

"Why? Don't you like me?"

"You know I do Clark."

"Well, why not then? Don't you want to try again?"

"We've already tried," the girl said. "It's impossible, you know that."

"I know ... but I really enjoyed trying …"

He heard the girl give a high-pitched squeal. Newt took his chances and looked through the round window. His hand flew to his mouth.

"Clark, stop it!"

"You know I can't help myself around you Luann. Marilla is great, but she hasn't been the same these past few months. She won't even let me … you know … I have needs. She gets me all riled up, and then nothing. I'm dying here, baby."

"Okay, well, maybe just for a minute ..."

Luann began to undo Clark's belt, and Newt turned around. He had heard and seen enough.

The Aspirin long forgotten, he hurried back downstairs and tried Annie's door, anxiously wanting to tell her what he had seen **.** It was locked. Not wanting to wake her, he went to his room and closed and locked the door behind him. He paced back and forth, unsure what to do.

In the end, he sat down on his bed and fell backward, groaning. These people's lives, crazy as they were, were none of his business. He would just be grateful for The Timmy Too and leave them behind in the morning. He could forget about Clark, and Luann, and Marilla, whom he now felt pity for. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he had never gone upstairs. He had found demons among these people from the city of angels, and none were safe from their sins.


	9. The Bitter End

Annie sat alone in the lab, sucking up blue liquid with a pipette and squirting it back out onto a glass slide. She covered it with a slip and then mounted it under the microscope and put her eye to the lens. No matter how many times she did it, it never got old, seeing into a world that could not be sensed with the natural eye. She adjusted the focus in and out until the scene shifted and organisms appeared, moving about in the liquid and absorbing each other to form new shapes.

"Interesting …" She muttered, adjusting the focus again.

Something sounded out in the hallway and she raised her head. A moment later the door slammed open, and a man entered, panting and wild-eyed.

"Antoinette, we need you."

She sighed and removed her goggles.

"What's up Dean?"

"Just come with me."

"I'm in the middle of something." She pointed at the microscope, and the papers strewn over the desk. "It can't wait?"

He shook his head emphatically. "Dr. Paige asked for you specifically."

She sighed again and pushed away from the desk and then put her white lab coat back on. Even as a legal adult, she found she couldn't say no to her mother.

Dean was looking at her urgently, so she quickly tided up her space and followed him out into the hallway, glancing over at him every once in awhile for some clue of what was going on.

He was about fifteen years older than her, but not much taller, and had dark hair and a permanent five o'clock shadow. She had caught him sleeping over in his office more than once, too tired from research to go home. She could relate. These days, exhaustion was all they knew.

She kept step beside him through the hallways, passing several doors and the cafeteria before they came to a stop outside the observation room.

She inhaled sharply. She never went in there, at least not on her own volition. It felt voyeuristic to watch the subjects adjust to their new lives in the maze, figuring out how to work together to find a way out. She knew one student, Thomas, loved to sit in there day after day, watching the others like a warped reality television show. She wasn't sure how he could stomach it.

Dean held the door open and tilted his head, inviting her to walk inside. She entered slowly and shivered. They had gotten a new system since she had last been in there. All the monitors were now high-definition, giving a crisp picture of various points around the Glade. Except, today, they were all focused on one area. One person.

A boy, not much younger than her, was lying on the ground, arms wrapped around a leg twisted at an unnatural angle.

Unable to help her curiosity, she walked closer to the monitors. Taking that as his cue, Dean zoomed in, and Annie could see that the boy was crying, and mouthing something over and over again.

"What is he saying?" She asked.

Dean pressed a button on the keyboard, and soon a voice came over the speakers.

It was clear as day and laced with a pain that went beyond the hurt leg.

"I hate you. I hate you!"

She took a step back, feeling as if he was speaking to her directly. Dean muted the feed, and she turned to him.

"What happened to him?" She asked.

"He jumped."

She snapped her head back to the monitor and then at Dean again. His tone was so nonchalant, she was sure she had misheard.

"He _what_?"

He nodded slowly, his face full of pity.

"Just a few minutes ago. He started climbing to the top. Psychs were keeping an eye on him, taking bets on how long it would take him to give up -,"

"Charming," she interrupted.

He nodded, and then shrugged, face falling.

"Then he just … let go."

Annie looked away from the screen, unable to keep watching the scene before her now that she knew the details.

"But why would he do that?" She asked. "They _volunteered_ to be in there."

Dean shrugged again and leaned forward, putting his hands on the back of an empty office chair while he stared at the boy.

"Hell if I know. But he needs medicine – what do you think?"

She forced herself to look at the monitor again, just in time to see another boy arrive, darker skinned and older looking. He knelt down next to the blonde boy, and wrapped his arm around his back, pulling him up. He dragged him through the maze, each step making the hurt boy's face screw up in pain.

"Why did Dr. Paige want me to see this?" Annie asked. "Usually the others just tell us what they need."

"Dunno. All she said to tell you was that 'WICKED is good'."

Annie's brow furrowed. 'WICKED is good' had become code between her and her mother, a way to tell the other that what they were doing, even if it looked impossible or grotesque from the outside, was for the greater good. Something about this situation – about this boy – was intended for a greater purpose than she knew. But what that purpose was, she had no idea.

She shook her head and quickly thought through a list of things they might need.

"I'll put together supplies for a splint. Maybe some crutches? It looks like his head is bleeding – do you know what blood type he is, just in case?"

"Should say in his file. Here -," he handed her a thick manila folder. "She also pulled this for you."

"All right. I'll take a look through it. He'll need some pain meds too … Nexophan, I think. Should take the edge off."

Dean looked at the monitor and smirked. "Oh, the others will be able to take the edge off. Did you know one of them basically figured out how to make a still?"

Annie rolled her eyes. "They're sixteen-year-old boys. Of course they did."

She held the folder to her chest. "I'm going back to my office. Let me know if anything changes."

"Will do."

Annie left the observation room, only feeling the weight upon her lift once she was back out through the doors and under the familiar fluorescent lights. She went back to her office, trying to get the image of the boy out of her mind. He had looked so broken, both in body and spirit. And it was now up to her to put him back together.

"Okay," she said, opening the file once she was back at her desk. "Let's see about you … uh …"

Her eyes scanned the page and then found his name.

"Newt," she said. " _Subject A5. The Glue_. The Glue?" She looked up and wrinkled her nose. "What the hell does that mean?"

She continued to scan the papers, looking over his charts for any information that might be helpful. One thing caught her eye, a brief mention about a sister who was running similar tests in a separate group. But there was no information about her in his chart.

She sat back in her chair, slowly spinning back and forth as she tapped her pen on her chin.

"Why?" She finally asked the empty room.

What could have driven the poor boy to give up everything? His friends, his sister? And even worse why hadn't anyone intervened? Why hadn't her mother put a stop to it as soon as he started to climb the walls?

She closed the folder and set it aside. When her mother had agreed to let her work on the trials in addition to her usual lab work, she had warned her not to get attached to the subjects. Informed her they were there on their own accord, and that no matter what happened, there would be no interfering with the work to be done.

She opened the folder once more and looked down at the photo of the boy. There was still a light in his eyes the day it had been taken, and if she wasn't mistaken, a defiance just below the surface.

"I'm going to help you," she said suddenly. "I'm going to help _all_ of you. To the bitter end."

XXXXX

Newt awoke with a headache, but shook it off as soon as he remembered what day it was. A new day, the day they had been waiting for. The day they would leave The Marilla and set off on their own boat, toward the island and to his friends.

He threw off his covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, stepping quickly across the room to change into pants and a long-sleeved shirt.

He looked in the mirror, studying the skin near his stitches. The veins were just as dark as the night before, but at least they had not become any worse. He would take Annie's advice and try not to think about it, try just to focus on the task before them. He had to keep calm, no stress. No thugs, no women past the gone, no car crashes, no fancy dinners. No late nights in the hallway with a pretty girl ...

He changed his clothes and pulled on his boots. Too excited to sit alone, he went into the hallway and knocked on Annie's door. A muffled voice called out to him, and he turned the handle.

"It's locked," he said.

He heard footsteps stomping across the floor, and then the door creaked open. Annie peered out at him with a scowl on her face, eyes bloodshot and hair pulled up in a tangled ponytail.

"What?"

He smiled and pushed past her, going into the bedroom while she turned around at the door and stared at him.

"Time to get ready!" He said cheerfully.

He grabbed her items from around the room, piling them up on the vanity in a disordered heap.

"And no protesting." He added when she groaned. "We're leaving today, whether I have to carry you onto The Timmy Too myself or not."

"Fine." She rubbed her eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed, stretching her arms up and yawning. "What do you need me to do?"

"Get your stuff packed up. I'll take it to the boat once you're done so we can leave after breakfast."

"Fine. Done." She put her hands to her temples, rubbing in small circles. "But can you leave now? You're so _loud_."

Instead of being insulted, he laughed at her. "Always a pleasure Williams." He went to the door and turned around. "Don't take long."

"Mhmm."

She watched as he left and closed the door behind him. She groaned and fell backward onto the bed. Her head was pounding from whatever she had drank the night before, and she hadn't slept well at all. Her dreams had been muddled, filled with music and dancing, and one nightmare she wished she could forget of Newt turning back into a crank.

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the image, and then stood up. She went across the hall to the bathroom and turned the shower on. She let it run for several minutes, filling the room with steam. Newt wanted her to hurry, but there was no way she was about to go to an island and play survivor without one final proper shower.

She stepped inside, turning the water even hotter, and opened a fresh bottle of shampoo. The scent of coconut and ginger filled the small space, and she closed her eyes as she lathered it in her hair, humming a song from last night.

A knock sounded on the door, and she jumped, pausing with her hands tangled in her hair.

"Who is it?"

"It's Newt. Can I come in?"

"I'm in the shower."

"I won't look."

"Uh … okay."

She heard the door open and through the frosted glass saw the shape of someone Newt-like enter, hand held over his eyes.

"I'm taking the stuff to the boat. Are you packed up?"

"No," she said, letting the water stream over her body and carry the suds down the drain. "It's been, like, five minutes. I haven't started yet."

"What? Why?"

"Because I wanted a shower Newt." She gave an exasperated sigh. "Can't you afford me one last luxury before I go live on an island Gilligan-style?"

"I don't know what that means," he said. "But hurry up."

"Right-o, Professor."

Once she saw him leave the bathroom she finished showering and then turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a soft towel around herself. She wiped the fog off the mirror and ran a comb through her hair, giving a half-smile at her reflection. Though she enjoyed annoying him, a part of her really was looking forward to leaving this place behind and going somewhere new. Somewhere permanent. It both thrilled and terrified her.

She went back to her room, moving quickly through the hallway in her towel lest someone see her, and closed the door behind her. She went to the vanity and put on undergarments, then pulled a pair of jeans out of the pile, slipping them on. She sorted through the rest of the items, settling on a t-shirt and a grey zip-up pullover, in case it was cold out on the water. She grabbed a belt from the bottom of the pile, but the movement knocked something off the table, followed by the sound of smashing glass.

"Shit!"

It was the framed photo of Marilla. Annie crouched down and began carefully sweeping the pieces of glass into a small mound before picking the other items back up. She hoped she wouldn't be in trouble - the frame looked like real silver - but despite everything she couldn't help her smile as she looked at the photo. Marilla appeared so carefree in it, giving a dazzling smile as she held a cigarette up to her mouth.

Annie picked up the backing, and then something else fell to the floor, silent this time. It was a piece of paper, folded in half. Her eyes creased as she picked it up, carefully unfolding it.

It was another black-and-white photo, this one of Clark. But unlike Marilla, he wasn't alone. In his arms was a baby, only about a year old, wearing a bucket hat and smiling at the camera. There was a hand-scribbled note on the bottom corner of the photo, written in black ink.

 _Clark and Timmy, Grauman's Chinese Theatre._

She frowned. She hadn't seen any children aboard. Perhaps it was just a friend of the family, or a nephew. She was about to put it back in the frame when she noticed the torn edge.

The photo wasn't whole.

She wondered where the other half was, and glanced around when her eyes stopped on the photo of Marilla in her right hand, and saw it too had a frayed edge. A chill ran down her back as her mind instinctively put things into place, solve a puzzle she had never meant to start.

With shaking hands, she put the two photos next to each other.

It was a perfect match.

Marilla hadn't been looking off camera, she had been looking at Clark – and Timmy.

"Darling, I want you to have this."

Annie's head shot up as Marilla came into the room. She was holding another garment bag and had the same dazzling smile on her face. She stopped when she saw Annie sitting on the floor, holding the two photos together.

She froze, smile fading.

"Oh, _darling_."

* * *

"There!" Newt said, putting the filter into place. He tried the engine, and it started up on the first go. He pumped a fist in the air, glad everything was going his way this morning.

He went back onto the deck, climbed down the ladder onto the dock, and jogged back toward The Marilla. All that was left was a quick farewell to the Montgomery's, and they could be off. He hoped Annie was packed. Even though she annoyed him, he really was looking forward to setting off with her and starting their next adventure.

His excitement lessened slightly, and he frowned once he was aboard The Marilla. Besides his general distaste for the boat and the people on it, it was also eerily quiet this morning. Usually Clark was prompt about serving breakfast at nine, but it was a quarter past and there was no one around.

He had hoped he could grab a bite to eat and maybe get a bag of food from them before they set off. Even perhaps a bottle of Clark's whiskey, to share with Thomas and the others. He thought Minho especially would enjoy it.

He shook off a strange feeling coming over him, and went below deck, grasping the railing as he took the steps two at a time. He went into Annie's room first and found it too was empty – and she still hadn't packed.

"Come _on,_ Williams."

He groaned, and picked up her backpack, stuffing her clothes inside with no attempt at organization. He zipped it up and then grabbed his jacket off the back of the vanity chair and put it on. He was glad to be wearing it again; it felt familiar, like a tether to his past. Except it smelled like Annie now, sort of sweet and earthy. That scent had become familiar to him as well - a glimpse into his future.

He heard the door open behind him, and he was about to chide Annie for not packing when he saw someone rush in, their figure reflected in the vanity mirror.

It was Luann.

Usually immaculately put together for her unofficial position of jack-of-all-trades, she looked a mess, like she hadn't slept all night. He then remembered her dalliance with Clark and wondered if she _had_ slept at all.

But he put the thought out of his mind when he saw her eyes. Something was bothering her, and he didn't think it was Clark. She shut the door behind herself; he could see her whole body trembling and his curiosity piqued.

"Hey Luann." He turned toward her fully. "You all right?"

She crossed the room quickly and stopped in front of him.

"We need to talk."

"Okay ..." He crossed his arms and tilted his head at her. "What's up?"

Her eyes darted between him and the closed door.

"You have to get out of here – right now. You and Annie. Go. Before it's too late."

He waved a hand out at her. "Whoa, slow down. We're about to leave. What's wrong?"

"You … you have no idea …"

His forehead creased as he looked at her. She was seriously spooked.

"Hey," he said in a more gentle tone. "Speak to me."

"It … it was this crazy plan they had …"

Her voice shook; she could barely get the words out.

"I didn't think they'd actually go through with it … you're supposed to leave today, I thought it would be too late, that they wouldn't try _again_ , but …"

Newt put his hands on her shoulders, trying to steady her.

"Luann, what are you talking about?"

"Immune," she said, staring right into his eyes. "They need someone who is immune. That's the only way."

"The only way for _what_? Come on, spit it out Luann!"

"To replace … replace Timmy!"

Luann opened her mouth, and then her eyes widened as something loud rang out throughout the room. Newt put his hands to his ears, and then felt something warm and wet seeping into the front of his shirt as Luann sank forward, collapsing into him.

Behind her stood Marilla, arm raised, holding Annie's gun.

"Oh, this will be a mess, won't it darling?"


	10. Black Sun

"I'm sorry, it was an accident."

Annie held up the broken frame, hoping Marilla wouldn't be too upset with her. Instead, the woman smiled.

"It's all right darling. Mistakes happen."

She walked over and snatched the two photos out of Annie's hands, and then sat down on the edge of the bed, looking down at the images with thoughtful eyes.

"Who … who is Timmy?" Annie asked quietly as she walked over and stood near the bed.

Marilla looked up at her, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"He is – was – our son."

"Oh." Annie's face fell into a somber look and she sat down next to Marilla.

"It would have been his birthday next month," she said. "I miss him terribly."

"If you don't mind me asking … what happened to him?"

"The Flare darling." Marilla wiped an errant tear off her cheek. "He was so young … there was nothing we could do to protect him."

"That's terrible … I'm so sorry."

"Oh no matter, it's not your fault." Marilla patted the back of her hand gently. "It just gets lonely on this boat, and I miss hearing his laugh. I'd do anything to have him back, but …"

She wiped another tear away and then suddenly stood up and held out her hand.

"Come darling. I think I need a drink, and I don't want to drink alone."

Annie looked at Marilla's outstretched hand and then around the room. She hadn't finished packing yet; Newt would be angry with her if she delayed them. But Marilla looked so melancholy, it was impossible to refuse her.

"All right."

She placed her hand in Marilla's, who squeezed her fingers tight and pulled her off the bed.

They went upstairs and across the deck, hand-in-hand, toward the lounge. Inside, Marilla picked up the bottle of her special mix off the bar cart. Annie's stomach turned as she thought about drinking more of that potent liquor, but she sat down and forced a smile as her host poured her a glass. Clark entered, keeping to the edges of the room with a curious look on his face.

"All right my pearl?"

"It will be." Marilla clinked her glass to Annie's, and smiled as she tilted it back and swallowed.

Annie took a sip and coughed. It was even stronger than she remembered, and she was going to refuse the rest when Marilla picked up the bottle again and topped her glass off.

"To Timmy," she said brightly.

"To Timmy," Annie repeated.

XXXXX

Newt dropped Luann and backed up against the wall.

"I never liked her," Marilla said. "And it wasn't just because she was still sleeping with my husband."

Newt raised his hands up, eyes wide as he tried to make sense of the scene before him.

"Marilla … what the hell have you done."

"I did what I had to do." She ran the gun across her forehead, sweeping her loose hair back with its muzzle.

"Now," she said, "What to do with you."

"With me? What have I done? What is going _on_?"

"Oh darling, it has nothing to do with you. Not really, anyway. It's always been about the girl."

"The girl?" He scrunched his face up. "You mean Annie?"

Marilla laughed, but it was not a sound of mirth. "Did you really think we were so naive as to let two strangers onto our boat, in this climate? To feed you and serve you drinks and let you sleep in our beds, out of charity?"

She moved forward, and Newt steeled himself against the wall.

"Darling, let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful actress. She had a doting director husband, and a gorgeous baby boy. One day, the flare hits. World is in disaster, chaos everywhere."

She continued to move closer. His eyes remained fixed on the gun in her steady hand, aimed at his chest.

"Now, who do you expect goes first in this new world of ours? The baby, of course. Infected by his mother, unaware that the food she provided at her own breast was really a poison to him."

Newt's eyes flicked to her face as a wave of fresh surprise ran through his body. The realization of who – of _what_ \- she really was.

"Now, every time she tries to have another baby, another son to fill the hole in her heart, her body rejects it. Knows she's diseased. That she's not fit to carry life into this new world. But she so desperately, desperately wants another child for the one she has lost – for herself, for her husband. She'd been driven absolutely _mad_ with longing darling. But in this forsaken world, it's impossible."

"Unless," she said, stepping in front of Newt until the barrel of the gun was pointed firmly against him. "That person was immune."

Newt looked down at the gun, then back up at Marilla, his face unreadable.

"Annie."

She nodded as her eyes sparkled. "Now you're catching on."

"Luann … now she was our first choice," she continued. "Joke was on us though; turns out, being immune doesn't prevent you from being barren. Her womb was as empty as her head.

"But then, who shows up on our doorstep but a girl who says she's immune – young, beautiful, smart. Everything I could ever want my future child to inherit. Sure, I might not be able to see it grow into an adult, but that's just the hand I've been dealt. So I screwed my courage to the sticking place, as they say, and vowed to try again. You see, I'd give anything to my husband Newt. Anything. Even something that isn't mine to give."

He felt that he was going to be sick. He had no idea where Annie was, if she was even safe. He felt the cold end of the gun through his shirt, knew he could be minutes or only seconds away from death. But all he could think about was her.

"So where do I fit in your story then, if Annie's who you want?" He asked. "Are you just going to kill me?"

Her smile faltered as she looked at him, and for a moment she appeared almost sympathetic.

"Oh darling. I've seen the look on that face of yours every time I look in the mirror. You're infected. I can't kill what's already dead."

She wrapped her finger around the trigger at the same time Newt pushed out. He knocked her backward with his full force before dodging to the side. He landed on the waterbed, and buoyed up and down as the shot hit one of the round windows, shattering it.

He clambered off the bed and kept his head low as Marilla raised the gun again, taking another shot that tore a hole through his jacket and took a chunk out of the vanity.

He grabbed the vanity chair as he ran out of the room. He slammed the door behind him and wedged the chair under the handle. He took a step back, panting as he tried to catch his breath, and then jumped as the door shook.

Marilla stood on the other side, moaning and cursing at him as she tried to pull the door open.

The chair held.

His heart pounded in his ears as he ran up the stairs, unsure how much time he had bought himself. He could feel sweat trickling down his back under his jacket, mixing with the metallic scent of blood.

Above deck, he couldn't hear Marilla. He headed toward the Montgomery's room, heartsick over what he might find. That he might be too late. The solid wood door was ajar, and he pushed it open a few more inches. A light breeze came in through an open window, causing the sheer curtains to dance off the walls. The room was tidy as always. There was no sign anyone had been there at all.

"Where are you Williams?" He asked aloud.

Suddenly he cocked his head. Was that ...? Yes, it was music. He turned around and left the room, heading across the deck as fast as his legs could carry him. He skidded to a stop just outside the lounge. There was definitely music coming from inside; more of the big band sounds from the night before.

He looked through one of the round windows built into the door. The lounge looked empty, and he almost let out a groan when his eyes settled on something hunched over in one of the leather chairs.

He opened the door and walked tentatively across the carpeted room toward the chair. He went around it, and he felt his throat catch.

Annie sat slumped over, hair covering her face. There was a glass knocked over by her feet, its liquid poured out onto the carpet, soaking it with the smell of alcohol and vanilla.

"Bloody hell Annie, what have they done to you?"

He crouched down before her and reached out, putting his hands on her knees. She didn't move. With one trembling hand he pushed her hair back, then let it run softly down her shoulder.

"Hey," he said with a gentle urgency. "Williams."

Her eyes blinked open, and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Newt?" She croaked.

"Yeah." He put his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. He tried to smile encouragingly.

"W-what ..." Her voice slurred, eyes unable to focus. "Newt?" She asked again.

"It's okay," he said. "It's okay. I'm going to get you out of here love."

He stood up and grabbed one of her arms, wrapping it around his neck. He pulled, lifting her from the seat.

"Going somewhere?"

Newt's shoulders stiffened. He lowered Annie back down into the chair and then raised his head toward the voice.

Clark stood in the doorway, a drink in one hand and an unlit cigar in the other.

Newt stood up again, keeping one firm hand on Annie's shoulder as he pointed the other at Clark.

"Don't come any closer."

Clark rolled his eyes and entered the room, ignoring Newt's threats.

"It's my ship boy." He said. "I can do whatever I damn well please."

"What did you give her?" Newt asked, eyes narrowing as Clark walked across the room. The man didn't appear to be armed, but that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous.

"Oh, just some more of Marilla's Mix. Bourbon with a splash of Bliss."

"Bliss?" Newt echoed. _Of course_. He had always heard the rich liked to indulge in the drug for pleasure, but now that he knew Marilla's secret, it all made sense. He thought back to the night before, how Annie had become drunk so quickly. But she hadn't been drunk - she had been _drugged_.

"The world is ending my boy," Clark said as he stopped at the bar cart. "But that doesn't mean we can't go down in style."

He swirled his glass and nodded toward Annie.

"I'm sure you're wondering what is going to happen with your friend here."

"Your wife filled me in," Newt said tersely. He stared at Clark, eyes tight.

"I see." Clark raised the glass to his lips and chuckled. "And where is my Marilla now?"

"I locked her in a room below deck, after she tried to shoot me."

"Is that right?" Clark laughed again. "You know, I never figured you to be so handy Newt. I mean, look at you. You don't exactly inspire confidence on first glance. But when you finished the boat ahead of schedule, we had to adjust our plans accordingly."

Newt said nothing. He knew Clark needed no prodding to make a speech. And the more he let Clark stall by talking, the more time he had to figure a way out of this.

"I thought perhaps you'd be taken care of in town, but then you persuaded the girl to go with you. It was so hard watching her leave, knowing she might not make it back, but not being able to force her to stay. Marilla thought the dinner party would be a good idea, to keep you on a little longer. I mean, you made it clear how quickly you wanted to get away."

"Can you blame me?" Newt scoffed.

"No boy, I can't." His brows knitted together over his twinkling eyes. "You know, I liked you Newt. I really did. I'm sorry you had to get mixed up in all this."

"It doesn't have to end like this," Newt said. "You can let us go. Annie and I won't tell anyone, not even about Luann. You can get on with your life."

Clark smirked. "Luann? What about Luann?"

"That Marilla shot her not ten minutes ago."

Clark rolled his eyes. "Horseshit."

"I'm serious," he said. "Whose blood do you think this is?" He pulled his jacket back and pointed to his stomach.

Clark's eyes widened ever so slightly. His mouth parted and then closed again. He cleared his throat and leaned back on the bar cart.

"Yes, well, Marilla has grown quite desperate." His chin quivered as he glanced down at his drink, betraying his unaffected facade.

"The flare will do that to a person," Newt quipped.

"The what now?" Clark asked. He barked a laugh. "You're mistaken boy. My Marilla is immune, like me. Like all of us."

Newt looked up at Clark, and a sick thrill went through him as he realized he now had the upper hand. Clark had no idea about Marilla, about what she was hiding from him. He removed his hand from Annie's shoulder and started to slowly cross the room.

"Am I?" Newt asked. "Think about it. Why do you think she drinks Bliss, Clark?"

"Because we're rich, you dolt, what the hell else are we supposed to do to entertain ourselves?"

"And Timmy?" Newt asked, not waiting a beat. "How do you think he got infected?"

Clark twitched at the name of his son, but kept his eyes fixed on Newt.

"He was just a boy. A wee thing. The flare has no favorites."

"What about Marilla herself, then?" Newt asked. Something inside him had shifted; he now felt like a cat playing with a very foolish mouse. He enjoyed watching Clark's brain turn under the new information, trying to judge whether to take Newt's words seriously.

"What about her?"

"Why do you think she gets you all riled up, and then nothing?" He asked, echoing Clark's own words back at him. "It's because she's hiding what she really is Clark - the thing you brag about killing, the thing you called a 'disgusting creature'."

"You're wrong," he said, voice wavering.

"Why do you think Marilla needed someone other than herself to carry her baby?" Newt pressed.

"She's too old ..." Clark reasoned. "It's not ... it's not safe for her."

"No," Newt said, shaking his head. He knew he had him. And the sooner Clark realized he was telling the truth, the sooner this all would be over.

"It's because she - that disgusting creature - cannot bring life into this world. She needed someone immune, Clark. And she's not immune. She's a crank."

Clark's face reddened as his nostrils flared, taking in rapid, shallow breaths that punctuated the silence in the room. He threw his glass against the wall, shattering it, and Newt jumped.

"You shut your goddamn mouth boy."

He rushed at Newt and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, shoving him hard against the wall.

"You know it's true," Newt spat out. He raised his chin, looking down at Clark with a satisfied expression. "I can see it in your eyes."

The veins in Clark's forehead bulged as his eyes burned into Newt's. He hadn't wanted to hurt him, but now the boy would pay for his impetuosity.

"You know," Clark reasoned coolly, "It's a shame your story has to end here, like this. Knowing there's nothing you can do to save her. Your friends never knowing you were coming for them. What will uh ... oh what was his name ... Thomas? What will he do without you?"

At the name of his best friend, Newt's hands clenched at his sides. His skin tingled, and everything in the room shifted in his vision.

"I bet he's glad to be rid of you, pathetic as you are." Clark said. "And Annie - she won't miss you at all, once I'm through with her."

He winked and flashed Newt a lopsided grin.

A sickening crack sounded throughout the room, and seconds later Clark staggered back, staring at Newt in surprise as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.

Newt stood, feet planted wide, rubbing one hand over his knuckles.

"Aha," Clark said as he spat on the ground. "So you have it in you after all boy ..."

He laughed and rounded on Newt. He raised a fist, about to strike, and then stopped. His eyes were locked wide, face ashen. His mouth hung open, but for the first time no words came out.

"I thought ..." He backed away.

Newt blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what had suddenly spooked Clark.

"Immune ..."

Newt looked down. The veins in his skin were turning from a healthy green to a darkening grey. He felt hot, too hot, and the muscles under his stitches ached. He had to fight the sudden urge to scratch them out, to dig into the wound. He suddenly wanted to hit Clark again, wanted to hurt him and stop him from ever hurting anyone else.

Clark had manipulated them. He had used Thomas' name as a weapon against him. He was planning to take Annie away from him, to hurt her.

Without another thought he let out a yell and charged.

He collided into Clark's stomach, knocking him to the ground. Clark scrambled, grasping onto the bar cart to pull himself up. It tipped over, sending bottles of liquor and glasses and metal tools everywhere.

Desperate to protect himself from the infected boy, Clark grabbed at the nearest object - a long bar knife - and got to his feet, swiping out at Newt as blood continued to drip from his split lip. Newt jumped out of the way, keeping a keen eye on Clark, moving backward until he felt his back press up against a wall.

Clark saw his chance and pounced at him, pinning Newt's body against the wall with his own weight as he pressed his forearm firmly against Newt's neck. He held the knife to his chest, felt the soft resistance of Newt's flesh against the sharp tip. He pressed in.

Newt tried to strike out at Clark, tried to kick up at him. He felt the knife, white hot, cutting through his stitches; could feel the warmth of his own blood seeping into his shirt, mixing with Luann's. He wanted to scream at the pain, but no sound could come out.

"You have to understand Newt," he said. "The world may have changed, but one thing hasn't. I always get what I want."

The room was fading. Newt felt his body twitch involuntarily, shutting down from the lack of oxygen.

 _This is it_ , he thought. _This is how I die - again. Goodbye Tommy. Goodbye Annie. I'm sorry. I tried._

He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable. Suddenly, he heard a loud _thwack_ and felt the weight of Clark fall into him, sending them both crashing to the ground. On the floor Newt grabbed at his own throat, gulping in air as the knife fell with a clatter nearby.

Newt opened his eyes to see Annie standing over Clark.

"Newt."

She smiled at him, and then her face went pale as she dropped an oar and collapsed to the ground.

"Annie!"

With a loud grunt Newt rolled Clark off of him and he crawled over to her unconscious body.

"Hey," he said, raising her head into his lap and slapping her cheek lightly. "Hey, wake up!"

She was unresponsive. He knew he had to get her off the boat, had to get them both to The Timmy Too. He scooped her lifeless form up into his arms and carried her out of the room, eyes darting around the expansive deck.

He moved as fast as he could down the ramp toward the trawler. He wasn't sure how long his lucidity would last; if the rage Clark had caused within him had subsided now that Clark was dealt with. He tossed Annie over the railing of the boat before hopping over himself.

"Come back darlings!"

Newt looked up. Marilla stood at the edge of her namesake ship. She gripped the railing, dress blowing in the wind. She still had Annie's gun, and she raised it with one shaking hand.

Newt ducked down, but the gun wasn't pointed at them.

Instead, Marilla raised it to her own head, and closed her eyes.

Newt looked away. But instead of a gunshot blast, he heard a strangled cry.

He looked up, and saw Clark with his arms wrapped around his wife. She crumpled to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

"No!" He heard her scream. "No!"

In that moment, he no longer felt anger. There was no room for anger in this world of theirs, not anymore. Only pity. Only mercy.

He stood up and went to the wheel, starting the engine and putting the boat into drive. He pulled away from the dock, refusing to turn around and have one final look at everything they were leaving behind. From now on, he would only look ahead.

Once they were a safe enough distance away, Newt slowed the boat and went over to check on Annie. He leaned down and covered her with his jacket, brushing a stray hair off her forehead and letting his fingertips rest for just a moment on her cool skin. He didn't want to think about how close they had been to losing everything, to losing each other.

He looked up at the sky toward the west. The sun was shining, heating the world around him. He hoped it would be smooth sailing the rest of the way.

 _Red sky at night ..._ his mind said, vaguely recalling some sort of rhyme. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember the rest, but nothing came to him. No matter, maybe Tommy could tell him how it went.

 _Thomas._ He grinned as he got up and went back to the wheel. He pushed the throttle forward, speeding up the boat. He glanced at the compass. Southwest. They were finally on their way; nothing was going to stop them this time.

He looked up at the sky once more, smiling at their good fortune, at the life he had ahead of him.

Except the sun was no longer shining.

His face fell as black dots filled his vision. His legs wobbled, and he tightened his grip on the wheel.

"What ..."

Without another word he fell to the ground, and all went dark.

* * *

Annie opened her eyes slowly, blinking in the darkness. Her head hurt, and her body felt like she had crashed into a tree - again. She pushed herself up, but her stomach churned, and she stumbled to the railing and retched over the side.

Slowly she raised her head and looked around. She was on The Timmy Too, floating in the middle of the ocean.

She turned around, wiping her mouth, and let out a choked cry.

"Newt!"

He was on the ground, next to the base of the wheel. She rushed over to him and crouched down, pushing him onto his back.

His skin was cold, and the dark veins that crept up his neck were accentuated against his pale skin in the moonlight. She pushed his hair out of his eyes, and grabbed his hand, eyes blurring as she looked down at him.

"Newt," she said, voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. Come back," she pleaded.

She let her head fall into her hands as sobs racked her body. They were so close, but in the end she had let him down. He never should have trusted her. She had _failed_ him.

Something weighted on her leg, and she looked down between her fingers to see Newt's hand reaching for her.

"Annie," he said hoarsely.

She hiccuped, and tucked her hair behind her ears, looking at him with glowing eyes.

"Newt! You're all right, I -,"

"You have to … map …"

"What?" She leaned forward, unsure what he was trying to say but desperate all the same to hear his voice.

"Map … Safe … Haven."

She looked around and saw a piece of paper fluttering on the ground near the railing. She got up and went over to it. It was a map, showing the island they were going to. She took it back over to Newt.

"Where are we?" She asked him as she sat back down.

"You …" His eyes fluttered.

"Newt?" Her voice was laced with alarm.

He cleared his throat, trying to sit up, but she put her hand on his shoulder, pushing him back.

"Don't," she said. "Stay still."

"You have to … get us there." He coughed.

"Me?" She asked.

He nodded and put his hand out again. "I trust you."

Fresh tears came to her eyes, and before she knew what she was doing, she wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as she buried her face in his neck.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "We should have stayed in the town, I should have listened to you, I'm sorry -,"

"Shh," he murmured against her hair. "Slim it Williams. This isn't your fault."

"Can I do anything for you?" She asked. "What do you need?"

"Just ... sit with me a minute longer?" He wrapped his arms tight around her as her tears soaked his blood-stained shirt.

His heart was beating steadily, but it was faint. She thought back to that first night when she had seen him lying on the ground. She had taken his pulse then to see if he was alive even though a small part of her had hoped he wasn't. Now she would do anything to keep him by her side. His breath slowed, and she looked up, realizing he had gone out of consciousness as his body went lax.

She gently pushed herself away and put his jacket back over him. She went to the wheel, and laid the map out, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Okay Annie," she told herself. "You can do this. Get the boat to the Safe Haven. Get him _home_."

She studied the map and looked up. By her novice calculations, they should be heading more south. She turned the wheel, and the boat jerked to the left.

She gave one last look at Newt before driving into the deep blue, praying for a miracle.


	11. Somewhere Between Nostalgia and Paradise

"Please, Tommy. Please."

"Newt!"

Thomas startled awake. Next to him Brenda put out a steadying hand, trying to calm him down in the dark.

He brushed her away with a mild annoyance, still half in a stupor, and sat up in his cot, looking out over the landscape. The sun wasn't up yet, but the sky was lightening from black to a dull grey tinged with red. He could hear the birds beginning their morning song in the trees, calling and answering one another through the canopies.

"It was just a bad dream," Brenda mumbled. "Go back to sleep."

Thomas rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms. She was wrong; it hadn't been just a dream. It had happened, and it kept happening to him every night in his mind, taunting him.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and placed his feet on the plank floor. With a sigh, he stood up and staggered out of the makeshift shelter, heading through the grassy field toward the sandy beach.

He was the only person out this early. He walked by one of the many fire pits, eyes glancing over the grey ashes sitting in the bottom and the dozens of glass jars strewn about. Remnants of the night before, and the night before that, and the night before that ... They all seemed to have a desperate need to stay up late into the night, forgoing sleep to avoid the nightmares that always inevitably came.

He went to the water's edge and let the surf come up over his toes, clearing his mind with its cold. But no distraction could ever take away the truth of how he felt inside, the dull ache he carried with him wherever he went.

He missed his friend.

But it was more than that. He felt like a part of him was missing, and no matter how hard Brenda or Minho or anyone tried, it would always be missing. There was no bringing him back. And Thomas would never be whole again.

He thought about Newt just lying there, on the cold concrete. No one to claim him. No one to say goodbye. Alone in the world. They hadn't even been able to give him a proper burial. And no matter what his note had said, no matter how much Newt had tried to absolve Thomas' guilt, he knew a part of him would always feel like he could have done more.

It was supposed to be a Safe Haven, except he felt anything but safe in his new home. He was stuck with his thoughts. Back in the Glade, he had run around the maze until his body and mind gave out, too tired to do anything but crash in his hidden spot in the Deadheads. Eat, run, sleep, repeat. Now on this tiny island, there was no need for runners. He had no place here, no purpose. And yet they treated him like a hero.

He kicked away a seashell and walked back up the beach, heading toward the shack that had been set up into a kitchen. The scent of something delicious wafted his way, and he quickened his pace. Frypan must already be up.

"Mornin'," Frypan said as he approached.

"Hey Fry," Thomas said. He inhaled and smiled a little as his stomach growled. "Whatcha cooking?"

"Eggs and grits." He poured something into a pot and whisked. "You're up early."

Thomas looked away sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah I uh, couldn't sleep."

Frypan gave an understanding nod and didn't press his friend on the subject. They all had left people behind, there was no use pretending that this new life of theirs would be easy.

"Made you something special," he said. "Maybe that will get your day going right."

He pulled a plate out from under the counter and held it out to Thomas. It had three strips of bacon on it, perfectly cooked and seasoned with pepper.

Thomas stared at it for a moment, hesitating. Certain foods - like bacon - were supposed to be rationed until they got the farm set up.

"I don't want special treatment," he said as his mouth watered.

The corners of Frypan's eyes crinkled. "Slim it shuckface. Eat."

Thomas laughed at the familiar language and took a piece of bacon off the plate, shoving it into his mouth. It was smoky and salty and delicious, and he closed his eyes as he savored it.

"Find something to do yet?" Frypan asked him, trying to keep his voice nonchalant as Thomas took a second piece.

He shook his head. "Not yet. I'm basically a Slopper. Quite the demotion. It sucks."

"Every bit helps," Frypan said as he took the last piece of bacon for himself. "You'll find your place soon."

Thomas nodded and wiped his greasy fingers off on his pants before giving a half-hearted shrug. He knew Frypan was right, but he hated waiting.

He wandered away and sat down in a folding chair at one of the tables. Up and down the beach people were waking up, rubbing their eyes and getting out of bed, putting on clean shirts for the start of the new day. There were still so many people he didn't know, but he knew that wouldn't last long. Tragedy had a way of bringing people together, for better or worse.

Before long Gally came over, followed behind by a sullen looking Aris. He felt the same as Thomas did – displaced without a defined role on the island. He had started helping Frypan out in the kitchen as something to do, and although he didn't enjoy cooking, he found he was good at it.

He gave a nod to Thomas as he went past and then grabbed an apron off a hook and tied it around his waist. He washed his hands in a metal basin and then chopped potatoes, lips pursed in concentration as Frypan cracked eggs nearby.

"Got some work for you today," Gally said, clapping his hand on Thomas' shoulder.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Some of the girls have been asking for private quarters, so I'm putting up another divider. How about you come by after breakfast and help me out?"

"Sure," Thomas said. "That sounds good."

Gally gave him a curt nod and continued on, sitting down at a table with Vince. He leaned over and said something to the bearded man, who fell back into his chair laughing. Gally smirked and crossed his arms. It still surprised Thomas that out of all of them, Gally had been the one to fit into this new lifestyle the fastest.

Thomas got up and waited in line for more food, and then carried his plate over to a different table where Brenda was sitting with Minho. His friend was leaning over a pile of papers, deep in concentration, oblivious to the full plate of food next to him. Another boy sat with them, one whose name he could never remember no matter how many times he was told.

"Hey Thomas," the boy said as he approached.

"Hey! Uh …"

"Caleb."

"Caleb, right. How's it going?"

"Good." Caleb looked at the others and laughed. He was too good-natured to be offended, and scooted over to make room for Thomas.

"We were just talking about going for a walk to the other side of the island after breakfast," Brenda said. "Want to come with?"

Thomas shook his head as he swallowed the thick grits. "Can't. Gally wants my help building a wall for the girls."

Brenda nodded approvingly. "All right. That will be fun."

He shrugged in response.

"Will you be at the bonfire tonight?" Caleb asked.

"Haven't missed one yet." Thomas said. He looked up at Caleb and gave him a thumb's up, then went back to eating.

Truth be told, he rather felt like skipping the bonfire. He felt like skipping it most nights, actually, but Brenda always urged him to go, wanted him to keep around people and out of his own head. He always enjoyed himself once he was there, but it was hard to take that first step. He felt like a fraud, laughing along with them while his mind was somewhere else.

"It will be fun," Brenda said, squeezing his hand under the table. "Jorge finally found his guitar."

He gave her a reassuring smile when Gally walked up, wiping his hands off on a towel.

"Ready?"

"Yeah, one sec."

Thomas shoveled the last few potatoes into his mouth and then picked his plate up and took it over to Frypan, who nodded at him and set it down in a pile for washing.

He turned around and followed Gally down the beach, to where Sonya and Harriet and a few other girls were staying. It all made sense to Thomas now why Gally had made this project a priority for the day – he seemed to spend an awful lot of time around Harriet these days.

"Good morning Thomas," Sonya said, giving him a friendly smile before heading down to breakfast.

"Morning."

He looked over his shoulder after she walked past, watched her blonde braid swaying as she moved. She was a nice enough girl, and he liked her, but being around her made the familiar ache return in the pit of his stomach. He was glad she wouldn't be around while they were working.

"All right, here's the plan," Gally said.

He spent the next ten minutes showing Thomas what they would do; how they were going to tie branches together to create a privacy screen, how they were going to attach it to the rest of the structure using thick ropes. Thomas heard everything Gally was saying to him, but felt like the information never really settled in his mind. He wasn't a Builder, and he had no interest in becoming one. This was just another thing to do to pass the time. That was how life on the island felt, just another place where they could wait out the passing of time.

They worked together in silence, except for Gally correcting him every few minutes on the knots he was using or the way he crossed a branch wrong. However, soon they had enough pieces woven together that it was decently sturdy and impossible to see through.

"Looking good," Gally said. "Help me put it up and we can finish it."

Gally stood up, dusted sand off his pants, then took one corner of the new wall.

"On the count of three Thomas, ready? One, two, three -,"

Both boys pushed up the wall, and Thomas held it in place while Gally secured a corner with rope. He got one side done, and then moved over to the next.

"All right, let it go when -,"

"Let it go?" Thomas said. He hadn't really been paying attention, had been thinking about something else, and he backed away from the structure.

"No!" Gally said. "When I say -,"

The wall began to fall over under its own weight, loosening at the first tie; Thomas rushed forward to stop it, but not fast enough.

It fell with a loud _thud_ , kicking up sand at them.

"Damn it!" Gally yelled, checking it over to make sure nothing had broken off. He looked up, ready to berate Thomas, when his mouth fell open in surprise.

"Hey, where are you going? Get back here!"

Thomas ignored him. He was already walking down the beach, away from Gally and the evidence of his latest failure. What was the point? He couldn't seem to do anything _right_ these days. A part of him knew he should go back, help Gally finish, but he wasn't in the mood to hand out apologies.

The further he walked the angrier he became, and soon he was stomping through undergrowth and into the forest.

It was cooler under the trees, and quieter. Save for the buzzing of bugs and the birds, he felt like he was truly alone. He breathed a little easier and continued on.

They had been there about a week and had barely explored inland. Minho, who had somehow become the unofficial island leader, was planning to set up teams to find food, map off areas, gather any other pertinent information about the island. Thomas was looking forward to helping with that, but there were more important tasks at hand to finish first. Getting the rest of the temporary shelters set up, the kitchen stocked, stores of clean drinking water. If this was going to be their permanent residence, they needed to make it a _home_.

He continued on, felt his legs straining as he went up an incline. The center of the island raised into a rocky mound, and he climbed on and on, letting the sweat drip freely off his brow onto the ground. This was exactly what he needed; time to himself, time to get his legs moving and his heart pumping. A reminder that underneath his deadened feelings, he was still truly alive.

The trek took about thirty minutes, and with one final grunt Thomas reached the summit. He sat down, giving his tired legs a break, and took rapid, shallow breaths in and out. From up here he could practically see the entire island. It was a lush speck of green in a world surrounded by blue. So different from what he was used to after being in a sterile facility for most of his life. Even the Glade with its grassy field and picture-perfect sky had been manufactured. But this was all real, breathtakingly beautiful earth.

He saw people down below wandering around the beach, going off to their various tasks for the day. Some younger people were slacking off, running into the surf and then back onto the dry sand. The corner of his mouth went up as he watched them; he hoped someday he could be as carefree again.

He laid back and rested his head in the crook of his arm. Wisps of clouds passed overhead, and he rested his eyes for a moment, letting the breeze run over his face and cool his sweat. He must have dozed off, because when he came-to the morning sun was covered with grey clouds, and he heard a rumble of thunder in the distance.

He sat up, feeling a little confused after the impromptu nap, and rubbed at his face. He gazed down at the beach once more. Everyone was gone now; depending on what time it was they must have either all gone in for lunch or found shelter from the impending rain. He pulled his legs up and rested his arms on them, looking out over the ocean which was becoming choppier by the minute.

His heart stopped.

He put his hands over his eyes, shielding them from the glare, and squinted.

Far off in the distance, was a boat.

He stood up and continued to look, to make sure he was really seeing it. That it wasn't just a figment of his overtired imagination. But there it was. Heading right for them.

Without hesitation he took off, running back through the trees and down the steep hill toward camp. The thirty-minute walk up there took him half the time on the way back, and soon he was running through the last of the trees and out onto the sandy ground again.

"Hey!" He shouted to no one in particular. "Hey!"

He continued to run, down the beach toward the dining area.

"Hey!" He shouted again.

A few people looked up from their meals, but he didn't slow down. He continued to run toward the shore; Minho nodded at Gally and both stood up, following Thomas' trail.

"What's up?" Minho asked once he had caught up to his friend.

"Out there!" Thomas said, pointing at the water.

Minho and Gally both squinted, looking out where Thomas was pointing.

"Do you see it?" He asked.

Minho's mouth fell open. "It's a freaking boat," he said.

"Were we expecting anyone else?" Thomas asked, looking behind himself at his two friends. "We weren't, were we?"

They both shook their heads, not taking their eyes off the approaching vessel.

Thomas' face paled as he suddenly thought about who it could be. Who else knew they were there? Was it someone just passing by? Did someone perhaps already own the island, were they coming to claim it back for themselves? Or, he thought as a feeling of dread settled in his stomach, was it WICKED, coming to take them out once and for all?

He swallowed a lump in his throat and continued to stare, unsure whether to alert the others, or avoid the imminent chaos for a few more minutes while they figured out who it was.

It was only a hundred yards out from shore now. Thomas could hear murmurs from people back at the dining area, heard chairs scraping as people stood up. Brenda jogged over and stood next to Thomas, shielding her own eyes with a frown on her face.

"Who -,"

"Hang on," Thomas said. He peered out, trying to see if he could see anything that would give him some answers.

As it came closer, he could see someone standing on the deck of the boat, but he could barely make them out. They had something in their arms, were holding it up like a banner to the small crowd gathered on the beach.

"What is that?" He asked. "What are they -,"

Thomas' voice caught in his throat, and he let out a guttural noise as the world around him fell away.

It wasn't a banner; it was a jacket. And he knew who it belonged to.

Newt.


	12. Lost Boy

Thomas couldn't have moved faster if someone had a gun to his head and told him to run.

He took off into the surf, kicking his knees up high as he tore through the water. Soon it became too deep, and he swam, fighting against the current that was growing stronger by the minute. Every time he put his head above water he could hear Minho shouting at him from the beach, urging him to come back.

But there was only one thing – one _person_ – on his mind, and he continued his path toward the boat. With a few final, exhausted strokes he reached it, clinging onto the anchor chain as his shoulders ached from the exertion. He looked up into the sky, panting, his darkened expression mirroring the clouds rolling in above.

"Newt!" He called, spitting salt water out of his mouth. "Newt!"

A blonde head appeared over the edge of the boat, but it was not who he was expecting.

"Thomas!"

"Antoinette?" His face contorted in confusion and he almost dropped the chain. "What the fu -,"

"Help me!" She pleaded, disappearing as quickly as she had appeared.

He looked from where her face had been, then back toward his friends congregating on the shore.

"Thomas!" She shouted impatiently from somewhere on board. "Newt – he's here! I need your help – hurry!"

His mind began to race as the waves broke over his shoulders, but still, he hesitated.

Antoinette Paige. Her face had popped into his mind after he purposefully stung himself in the Glade, but he never thought he would actually see her again. He was one of the few who knew who she really was, who her parents had been. He remembered her. He remembered everything.

This had to be some sort of a trap, a ruse to use Newt's name to get Thomas aboard the boat. He knew WICKED would never let them go, not truly. And with Ava gone, they hadn't had to look far for a replacement.

"Damn it, Thomas, what are you doing down there?"

With a slight heaviness in his stomach, he began to pull himself up the chain, until he was within reach to grasp onto the boat railing. He had always known that curiosity would be the thing to kill him; he could never just let things go. And when he felt the slim hands grab under his arms and help him over the side, he wondered if this was finally his time.

He fell onto the ground in a wet heap; eyes squeezed shut as he took in deep breaths. A clap of thunder sounded overhead and he pushed himself up, glancing around the small trawler.

"Where -," he asked between breaths, "Where is he?"

"Wheelhouse," she said.

Thomas pushed himself to his knees and then stood up, staggering toward the door.

Annie rushed after him, trying to grab his arm.

"Wait, Thomas – I have to warn you -."

He ignored her and pushed open the door of the tiny room. Everything slowed down around him at once, and he clutched a shaking hand to his chest as his legs threatened to give out beneath him.

"Newt …" His voice was strangled, and he raised a fist to his mouth as tears pooled in his eyes.

He looked from the body of his friend back to Antoinette, heart pounding as his forehead creased in disbelief. Was this the test then, to see how he would react to seeing his dead friend one final time? His vision tunneled, and he suddenly wanted to accuse her, expend all his anger at WICKED against her. But then he noticed she was crying too.

He looked back at Newt.

"Is he …?"

"Alive," she said. " _Just_."

"… How?" He asked, dumbfounded.

"I'll explain everything later. But first - was Teresa telling the truth? Do you have a serum that will cure him?"

"Yeah ..." He said slowly, coming out of his stupor. "Yes," he said more firmly. "Back in my tent."

"We have to get it for him - _now_ Thomas. We don't have much time. He's been like this since last night."

"Last night? Antoinette ... how is this possible?"

"No time. Just trust me, Thomas - like you used to. Before everything changed."

He looked at her. She had changed since he last saw her, had grown up. Then again, so had he. It was a necessary evil in this world of theirs, kids becoming adults before their appointed time. But he saw it in her eyes, the same kindness that he had known in a world that felt like another lifetime.

He jumped as the sound of an engine sputtering came from outside the room. Without a word, he went past Annie and back out onto the deck.

"Thomas?" A boy called out from below.

He went to the railing. "I'm here, Minho," he said as the wind whipped at his shirt.

He looked down at his friend, sitting in a metal dinghy. Gally was there too, clutching the tiller as he tried to keep the smaller boat steady in the rough waves.

"What the hell's going on?" Minho asked. "I thought you were a goner. Fish food."

"Just ... give me a minute."

He turned around and went back to the wheelhouse, wiping droplets of rain off his forehead with the back of his hand. He headed right for Newt and crouched down next to him. He looked so fragile Thomas worried he might tear in half if he touched him.

"Get his feet, will you?" He asked.

Annie came over, wearing Newt's jacket and slinging his backpack over her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around his boots while Thomas lifted under his shoulders. He was lighter than Thomas remembered, and with minimal effort, they were able to carry him out of the room and toward the railing of the boat. The rain was coming down harder now, and Thomas heard Minho and Gally bickering about it below.

"Make room," Thomas called out.

A moment later, a familiar face appeared over the side of the boat, and Gally gasped while Minho let out low curses.

"No way ..." Minho said. He stood up in the boat, causing it to rock back and forth precariously.

"Sit down!" Gally scolded, grabbing the hem of his friend's shirt and pulling him back into the boat.

Gally's face was stone-cold, unreadable. He stared in turn at Thomas, his prodigal friend, and the new girl who was clutching his feet in the pouring rain.

"Thomas?" He asked tentatively, his tone implying a thousand questions at once.

"Make some room Gally," Thomas repeated simply.

Thomas and Annie began to lift Newt up over the railing, while Minho stood below - more carefully this time - and took his friend into his arms. With a grunt, he sat back, and Newt half fell into the boat with a thud.

Gally stared at him fixedly, knuckles going white as he gripped the tiller. Even though he was Immune, there was something downright creepy about being close to someone almost past the gone. He shuddered and looked away.

"Keep it steady!" Thomas called out as he helped lower Annie over the railing.

Minho grabbed around her waist and helped her into the boat, saving his questions about who she was and what the hell she was doing there for later.

Thomas climbed over the railing last, and Minho guided him down until they all sat in the boat, huddling together in the cold, wet air. No one said anything as Gally steered back to the beach. Once they were close enough Minho hopped out, trudging through the water as he guided the boat onto the shore.

A large crowd was waiting for them, curious as to what was going on. Their whispers grew louder and louder until people were talking over each other at once.

"Everyone shut up!" Brenda yelled, walking toward the boat.

"Hey," she said to Thomas quietly. "What's going -,"

She froze once she saw who was sitting inside the boat and then took a step back, eyes bulging as her mouth fell open.

"Newt," she whispered.

She stared at Thomas. Questions tumbled through her mind, begging for an explanation, but she was smart enough to wait. Instead, she motioned for the crowd to move back, creating a berth around the boat.

Murmurs ran through the crowd like lightning as Thomas and Minho lifted Newt's limp body and carried him onto the sandy beach. Soon the news had reached everyone that their friend was back from the dead.

"Do you have a med tent?" Annie asked as she sidled up next to Thomas.

"This way," Brenda said, stepping forward. The initial shock was starting to wear off, and now she knew she must do whatever was needed to help. The blonde girl looked strangely familiar to her too, though she didn't know where from. Thomas seemed to trust her however and that was good enough for her for the time being.

"We'll go then," Annie said. "Get the serum, Thomas."

He looked down at Newt as he gripped his shoulders. He didn't want to leave him. He worried that if he took his eyes off him for even a second, he might disappear. That he would wake up and this would all be a dream.

"Thomas?" She repeated gently.

He looked up at her and nodded, and let Frypan take over his position, who had been standing near the front of the crowd with his mouth agape. Thomas turned around and jogged down the beach, toward his tent.

The rest hurried toward the med tent, which turned out to be a small shelter covered in tarps with a few cots underneath. Annie's eyes glanced over several first aid kits, stacks of rolled gauze, boxes of various sizes of gloves. A defibrillator sat on the ground under an IV stand with an empty saline bag hanging from it.

Minho and Frypan lowered Newt onto one of the narrow cots, and then Minho stared at Newt while Frypan stared at Annie, hoping someone would give him an explanation for what was going on. When none came, he backed up and sat down in a chair while Annie began peeling off Newt's wet shirt.

She clicked her tongue as she looked him over. Without any access to medicine or even a decent first aid kit on the trawler, the infection had spread faster than usual. His skin was clammy, and freezing to the touch. When she pulled his eyelids back she could only see the whites of his eyes.

Thomas appeared suddenly at her side, shaking from cold, or shock, or perhaps both. With a jittery hand, he passed the serum to Annie. She looked at the bottle, tilted the blue liquid back and forth with curious eyes before putting it into an injector. She held the metal tube against Newt's skin, in the same place she had that first night in the city.

"Just so you know, this might not work," she warned. With a slight wince she pushed, and the tube emptied.

She took a step back and watched.

Nothing happened. Five breathless minutes turned into twenty, and soon an hour had passed as they all stood around the cot, waiting for any sign of movement. Not dejected yet, Annie continued to monitor his pulse, take his temperature, and cover him with blankets as the rain came down harder outside.

Two hours now. The small crowd that had gathered outside the tent had now dispersed, content that they would hear about it if anything changed. Minho had stopped pacing around the tent and was now sitting with his back against a pole, staring down at his hands, lost in his own thoughts. Frypan laid in one of the other cots, eyes closed. Thomas and Annie stayed near Newt.

Something sounded at the entrance of the tent and soon Brenda walked in, carrying plates of food.

"You must be starving," she said, setting them down on a table.

Frypan opened one of his eyes and sat up in bed, while Minho licked his lips and came over.

"How's he doing?" She asked as she stood next to Thomas, hands on her hips.

"His pulse is stronger than before, and his temperature has gone up some. But he still hasn't moved." Annie answered.

"I'll leave you to it then," Brenda said.

"Thank you," Thomas said, catching her hand before she walked away and squeezing it. He appreciated that she always seemed to know just what he needed - when to stay by his side and when he just wanted to be alone. She smiled at him and then bent down and kissed the top of his head.

Annie smiled to herself. The gesture warmed her, seeing people have the freedom to truly love and take care of each other here. There was hope on this island, and maybe some for her too after all.

With Brenda gone, the small team ate their sandwiches in silence, washing them down with glasses of reconstituted milk.

Three hours. Frypan had left to help prepare dinner, and Minho had gone to help Vince and Gally with more plans for the island. Anything to keep their minds preoccupied.

A little color had started to come back into Newt's skin, as the dark lines faded to a pale grey. His pulse was steadier now, a comforting sound to Annie as she listened through a stethoscope. But still, he did not move or show any other sign that he was coming back to them any time soon.

"Come on, Newt ..." Annie muttered as she tucked him in for the third time.

The light inside the tent was beginning to fade, and she clicked on a lantern just as Thomas lifted his head, sniffing as the scent of smoke wafted past his face.

"Hey," Brenda said, popping her head in the tent again. "Do you guys want a break? Some of us are going to the fire, but I can stay here and watch."

Thomas and Annie both shook their heads at the same time. There was no way they were leaving Newt, not now. Not after everything.

"Raincheck?" Thomas offered, giving Brenda a conciliatory look.

She nodded without another word and ducked back out of the tent.

Thomas stood up and stretched his arms in the air, trying to hide a yawn.

"How long do you think until he wakes up?" He asked.

"The same amount of time as when you asked me twenty minutes ago - I don't know."

She stood up, needing something to do besides sitting and staring and answering the same questions over and over again. She began to clean up around the tent, throwing away food that the other's had left, and sorting through the first aid kits, tossing bottles of expired medicine in the trash.

"Maybe ..." Thomas began tentatively as he watched. "Now's a good time to talk?"

Annie bit her lip. She knew they'd have to talk about it eventually, and out of all people, Thomas deserved some answers. But she also knew that look he wore on his face. The distrust. It was the same way Newt had looked at her in the beginning. How she had looked at her mom near the end.

"Okay," she said. She turned to him and folded her arms. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions."

"Yeah. I do." He turned the chair around and sat back down on it, arms resting on the top rail. "I guess, uh, start from the beginning."

She leaned back against one of the tables, lips pursed as she tried to think about how to explain it all.

"Well, I suppose it started the night of the riots," she said. "I found him in the street - he had a knife sticking out of him. I thought he was dead."

Thomas felt a wave of guilt go through him, but he nodded, urging her to go on.

"Maybe you can tell me more about that later," she said, eyeing him. "Anyway, I gave him some prototype serum and brought him back to my mom's apartment. Stitched him up and let him rest. We left a couple days later to find this island. We've been through a lot, met lots of different people. Some good, some ... bad. But the important thing is, we're here now. That's all he wanted, really, was to get to you."

"Why are _you_ here though?" He asked. "I mean, why did you help him?"

"I didn't ... know that I knew who he was. Until later. He was alive, and he needed help, and ..." She sighed. "I don't know."

She pushed away from the table.

"He asked me the same thing when we left the city. I told him I just wanted to help him. I can't explain it."

"The Glue," Thomas said, laughing to himself.

"What?" That word triggered something in her memory, a file she had seen in her office once upon a time.

"Nothing," he said, laughing again. "I just know exactly what you're talking about. That feeling. Does he know though, who you are?"

She nodded. "He does. We got into a big fight about it, but ... I think he came around."

"That's good. I can't promise that everyone here will do the same though Antoinette."

She shrugged. "Honestly, it doesn't matter anymore. Besides, there was a time you and I were friends Thomas. Or something like it, anyway. You trusted me once. Maybe we can get back there again."

"A lot's changed since then Antoinette."

"For all of us." She said pointedly.

"Honestly," he said after a moment. "I'm surprised they didn't force you to stay, you know? Put you in charge of all of WICKED."

"How do you mean?"

"I just figured you'd be a shoo-in. I'm sorry, by the way. I haven't said that yet, but I am. Really."

"Sorry for what?" She asked.

He looked up at her, and his heart froze in his chest as he saw her blank expression and immediately realized his mistake.

"Forget about it," he said, shaking his head. "Later."

"No, I want to know what you meant. Sorry for what?"

"For ... your mom."

Her head flinched back slightly. "What about her?"

"That she uh ..." He leaned back and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He couldn't look at her.

"Thomas?"

"I'm sorry, I really thought you knew. Ava ... uh, your mom ... Chancellor Paige ... she uh ..."

Her heart began to thud in her ears. She knew something terrible was coming at the end of that sentence. And the more he stuttered, the more she wanted to shake it out of him.

"Spit it out, Thomas."

"It was the same night. On my way out of WICKED. Ava stopped and talked to me, tried to reason with me. But Janson, he ..." He couldn't seem to get the words out; he hoped she would be able to put it together so he wouldn't have to actually say it. When she said nothing, he looked down again.

"He shot her, Antoinette. She didn't make it."

Annie's face drained of color as the world around her swam in her vision. So much for this being an island of hope. This whole time, she had thought her mom was still alive. She had left her a _note_. And now, just like that, she was gone. She was an orphan on an island of strangers.

Thomas lowered his head. "I'm so sorry ... you shouldn't have had to find out this way ... if I'd known ..."

She swayed slightly and he reached out his hand toward her. She looked at it and then backed away as she shook her head.

"This is all your fault," she said slowly.

"I -,"

"No," she interrupted, voice growing louder. "It is. Of course she wasn't going to leave without you. You were her _favorite_ Thomas."

He stood up and approached her slowly, wanting to comfort her and take some of his own guilt away in the process.

"Antoinette, I'm -,"

"Don't you dare say sorry." She said. "Don't you dare finish that sentence with sorry."

She suddenly remembered Tyler; how they had sat on the stump together and talked about their parents. How they knew what it was like, waiting for the inevitable - for the worst - to happen. But it wasn't supposed to happen like _this_.

Thomas blurred in her vision, and she pushed past him, knocking him out of the way as she exited the tent into the cool night air.

"Antoinette!" Thomas called out, heading toward the makeshift door.

"Tommy?"

Many years later someone would ask Thomas what it was like. Having his best friend back from the dead, hearing him say his name again. Thomas had told them that it was like the way you felt at first dawn, after a sleepless night when even the tiniest shadow made you feel afraid. Something about the sun, the beacon of a new day, melted everything away, and in that moment you could finally, finally rest.

A new day had dawned for Thomas.

"Tommy?" The voice croaked again.

He turned around and rushed to the cot, everything else forgotten. He crouched down as the pale blonde boy turned his head, eyes slowly fixating on the familiar face in front of him.

"Newt?" Thomas choked out. Tears sprang to his eyes as he looked at his friend, and clasped his hand firmly with both of his own.

"It's me," he said. "I'm here."

Newt's eyes trailed around the room under heavy eyelids.

"Am I dead?" He asked.

Thomas laughed and wiped away a tear.

"No man. You're really here."

Newt tried to sit up but groaned under the effort and laid back down. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temple.

"What ... what happened?"

"You were saved by Paige," Thomas said, laughing at how bizarre it sounded.

Newt looked around the room again, suddenly realizing someone was missing.

"Where is she?" He asked, coughing. "Where's Annie?"

Thomas felt his face grow hot and he averted his eyes, swallowing down a lump in his throat.

"She uh -,"

"I'm here," a voice said behind him.

His shoulders tensed as Annie walked past him. She wiped at her eyes and sat down again, ignoring Thomas. Newt reached out his free arm and she took his hand in hers.

"Hey," she said. She smiled at him. "Welcome back."

"How long have I been out?" He asked.

"Since last night."

"You did it, Annie," he said, voice hoarse. "You got us here. You can finally read a bloody map."

She laughed and ruffled his hair. " _We_ did it," she corrected. She looked away for a moment and cleared her throat.

His eyebrows drew together. "Are you okay?" He asked.

She laughed. "You just came back from the dead, and you're worried about me? I'm just ... happy you're back. We both are."

She looked at Thomas and gave him a tense smile. They would continue their conversation later.

"There are a lot of people who want to see you," Thomas said. "Minho, Frypan, Brenda - everyone's been in and out of here all day."

"I want to see them too," Newt said, voice thick. "But ... I'm bloody knackered. Maybe later?" He began to sink into the pillow, eyes fluttering as he fought the onslaught of sleep.

"Okay," Annie said. "You rest and we'll check in on you in a bit."

She stood up and began to pull the blanket back up over his chest, but he reached his hand out and grabbed onto hers, stopping her.

"No," he said. "Please - can you stay? Tommy - will you stay too?"

They looked at each other silently and then back at Newt.

"You got it," Thomas said.

"Of course," Annie said, at the same time.

Without another word they sat down again by Newt's side, bodies angled away from each other in their wooden chairs. Neither friends nor strangers, but the same thing held them together, kept their worlds from falling apart. And as he fell into a peaceful sleep, they watched, and waited.


	13. Story Update

Hi,

I was asked to give an update on what's going on with this story.

I haven't forgotten about it. A few different things happened -

The story itself went in a direction I never intended it to go. Since I deviated so far from my original plan, I wrote myself into an unformulated corner and didn't know how to get out of it without creating out-of-character characters and major plot holes. This diminished interest I had in the story, and that is why it did not get updated for months.

Second - real life got in the way. I know people say that all the time, but it's true.

Finally, I was in so deep to The Maze Runner fandom that I got a bit burnt out and needed a break.

So where did the chapters go? Well, I decided to delete the chapters that took a turn from the plot I had originally created. I had to get away from them to move forward, and didn't want any new readers to see them if they weren't going to stay. My intention was to finish the story as planned and upload the final few chapters all at once, with an explanation for what happened. That way I'd have the story finished (no chance of going down a rabbit trail again), and there'd be a lot of new content for people to read and a resolution. However, going back to point two, life got in the way.

Maybe that wasn't the best way to handle it. But that's what happened.

I really, truly, absolutely appreciate all of you who have taken the time to read (and comment) on this story. It had been years since I'd written FF, let alone put it on-line for people, and the response has been wonderful. To those of you who liked the deleted chapters and are now disappointed - I understand if you decide to abandon this story. I'm sad to lose you, but I get it.

As a fan of FF myself, I know how frustrating it can be when people stop updating or abandon a story altogether. I never meant to do that, and to those of you who are still invested or joining for the first time, I want you to know that this story WILL be updated.

Count on it shanks.


End file.
